I've Got You
by eb4life
Summary: Victor is irritated by his student (who is missing in action, and late for the millionth time to their skating practice) but when Victor hunts Yuri down to find out what could possibly be more important than skating, Victor finds himself picking up the broken pieces of Yuri. Rated for self-harm. Not a lemony ship-slap in the face. It's all fluff, my friends. Lots and lots of fluff!
1. Cutting Rose Petals

**CH1:**

 **Cutting Rose Petals**

Victor landed a triple axel heavily yet gracefully, his skates slamming into the sharp ice with enough force to send shards that sparkled like glass flying up to his stress-tensed jaw, glinting alongside his angry, silvery eyes. His arms were not the slender, arching swan necks that the world was familiar with, but had become rigid and inflexible like steel rods of cold hard metal. He did not have the light, flirtatious grin and slightly sultry air about himself, but was fueled with a burning passion that created somewhat of a dark, menacing aura.

Simply put, Victor was angry.

No.

Victor was straight up _pissed_.

Like when Yuri was being harassed and bothered by other skaters while Victor had been on the side laughing it up with his old coach before realizing what was going on, _pissed_.

Like when Yuri had told Victor that after all they had been through (after all they had lost and gained and fought through) that they should part ways immediately following the end of the skating competition, which sent Victor into a pitiful crying fit as if he were an angry, spoilt child who didn't get his way, _pissed_.

Like all the little moments when people had misjudged and underestimated Yuri, assuming he was a common, worthless, average skater with an overweight body and a weak mind, _pissed_.

Take your pick.

And why was he so angry?

Yuri was late. Again. Like always, for the past few months. Without any legitimate reason as to why. Plus, the young student was also none too surreptitiously hiding something, with his blatant efforts to make it seem as if he had no secret at all and his increased blushing and avoidance of eye contact. It was irritating Victor to no end. A good coach knows his students. He knows their pasts, their goals, their secrets, their fears, their hopes and dreams and aspirations and everything in between. For a coach to not know the secret that a student of said coach was so stubbornly hiding… well, it was just unacceptable, wasn't it?

Also, Yurio was being disruptive and interfering, still attempting to get Victor back into one of two things. It was either competing again, or training Yurio instead of Yuri (neither of which were going to happen any time soon if either Yuri or Victor had anything to say about it). This was also grating on Victor's already mostly raw and bleeding nerves that were screaming with aggravation and demand for relief.

And the cherry on top of the frustration sundae was the all the adoring fans. Dear God, the adoring fans. The adoring fans were becoming increasingly relentless in their attempts to seek out both Victor and Yuri for their signatures, personal possessions, and advice. Victor, naturally, kept his flawlessly brilliant smile and welcoming words at the front, but he was harbouring a twitching irritation and a slight, embarrassing hatred for the people who treated him like a golden god instead of a human being. It bothered him even more when they dragged his bumbling, anxious student who was barely more than a child into the picture.

Victor sighed heavily through his nose and came to a screeching halt, showering slivers of ice into a small pile in front of him, his skates squealing in protest. He bowed his head and glared at the tops of his gleaming, ebony skates, his ivory hair offering a sharp contrast as the long bangs fluttered to cover his razor blade eyes.

"Late." He spat darkly, his already poor mood deepening exponentially. He was referring to his lovely young student, Yuri, who had (as the now daily trend currently showed for the past, oh, I don't know, month or five) decidedly _not_ shown up at any time even _remotely_ close to the planned hour for his daily skating practice which was scheduled strategically between the boy's vigorous workouts and long hours of sleep. Victor, however, spent all day and night perfecting technique, studying other competitor's skating routines and training himself to be a proper coach to his… friend.

Victor grimaced at just how pathetic his mental pity-party was and slammed a fist onto the plastic siding of the rink like a hammer against a nail. The echo created by the blast was sharp and explosive in the empty building, and Victor relished rather moodily in its tone. Victor had been waiting over forty-five minutes, hoping that his pupil had simply lost track of time during his early morning jog, or maybe woke up late and was rushing to practice, and was about to burst right through that door _any_ minute with a red face, babbling apologies and his head bowed low to the ground. Victor looked up, half expecting the door to actually fly open to reveal his student gasping, out of breath and sweating fiercely from his sprinting but, alas, no one was to be found. Victor groaned, massaging his temples as he leaned against the blue and white plastic siding, tilting his head back to relieve his neck pain, which had been aching and burning through his soul as of late.

 _Where._

 _Was._

 _Yuri_.

Also, why was his student's now constant tardiness so distressing, and irritating, and enraging, and infuriating, and aggravating, and… and… and…

"Иисус Христос." He muttered in his native tongue, his agitated emotions getting the better of his normally schooled expression and practiced exterior. It was unreal just how much trouble Yuri could be sometimes. From random emotional outbursts to being infuriatingly cute and distracting, it was a wonder that Victor was still sane.

Well. Partially sane, anyways.

Victor pulled himself upright, determination glinting like lightening in his bright eyes. He was going to find Yuri and drag him onto the rink if he had to. The Russian skater sighed, sagging suddenly with defeat. In all reality, Yuri had probably just slept in.

Unless he was just purposefully enjoying the warmth and softness of his blankets and would rather be there than join Victor on the ice. Victor straightened back up and skated off the ice with purpose, plopping down on a bench where he began untying his laces. He checked his phone for the millionth time, hoping that he had just missed a text or a call saying that maybe Yuri was sick or otherwise unable to come in.

Victor froze, one skate in his tight fist, dangling by its strings, the other resting on the floor peacefully while his phone suffering from a slow death of suffocation by its owner's slim fingers.

 _What if Yuri was sick?_

 _What if he had been in an accident?_

Victor suddenly felt ill as guilt hit him like a big ugly, eighteen-wheeled, transport truck.

He was wasting time complaining, and whining (albeit internally) over Yuri's laziness and unwillingness for hard work, even though the poor boy was working himself harder than Victor had ever seen anyone even attempt, while the kid could be lying on the ground somewhere bleeding out. Or struggling to open the door to the hot springs that they both called home because his fever-weakened arms trembled too much. Or hunched over a bucket, tossing up his insides, all alone in his bedroom, crying in pain. Victor dropped his phone, not bothering to catch it as it clattered loudly to the floor along with his skates. His heart was racing extremely loudly like a drum in his ears. His face burned and his hands trembled as adrenaline flowed through his veins in response to the terrifying images that gripped his conscious.

 _Wait._

What was he doing? His Yuri could be bleeding out on the streets or vomiting his insides out in his bathroom for all he knew! He should be well on his way to finding Yuri and figuring out what happened, not sitting here wasting time stressing and guilt-tripping! Giving himself a mental shake, Victor tugged his shoes on quickly, leaving his skates in a pile on the floor, not paying any mind that they could easily be taken by anyone who happened to walk into the rink. He then flew out the door, not bothering to even throw a coat on to protect himself from the sharp cold.

As he sprinted along Yuri's usual route, Victor found himself glancing everywhere he could, searching for ambulances and fallen dark-haired boys with shining eyes, his ears listening intently for sirens and shouts and cries of dismay or alarm… or pain.

He ran faster.

Victor received the odd looks and side whispers, several young girls even attempted to catch up with him, each screaming about autographs and pictures, but Victor didn't care. He had his heart, mind and soul set on one thing— one person, really. His feet pounded on the concrete beneath him as he demanded them to continue onwards past the known limits of man, the cold air chilling him to the core where the paralyzing fear had not yet frozen him, his breath coming out in crystalized fog.

He found himself gasping for breath once he reached the top of the hill where Yuri's humble abode and the Katsuki family business lay gently awakening with the slowly rising dawn. Hands on his knees, posture hunched, Victor paused to catch his breath, slightly regretting his lack of forethought when failing to have spent the two precious seconds to snatch his dark blue jacket that was so toasty and cozy…. Victor grinned wistfully at his own musings. Straightening and arching his back slightly against a backdrop of golden morning glow, Victor speed walked, attempting to seem nonchalant to any guests or employees that may have witnessed his hasty entrance.

"Victor, dear, how are you?" Yuri's mother asked kindly. Her soft, round face lit up in a bright beaming smile and familiar chocolate eyes shone with fondness. Victor nodded politely, bidding her a good morning as he slipped past her, his socked feet almost flying out from under him in his speedy retreat that required pinwheeling arms to maintain balance. The gentle woman shrugged merrily, perkily exclaiming that "boys will be boys," whatever that meant. Victor was a grown man. A responsible, respectable, well-rounded, grown man, thank you very much.

On that note, the ever-graceful grown man Victor found himself faceplanting on his way down the hall of Yuri's bedroom. His feet went flying out from under him and he slid on his increasingly bruising bottom past the bedrooms, skidding to a stop just in front of the bathroom.

"Срань господня!" The Russian yelled at the hardwood floors that had just done literally nothing to cushion his painful fall. Rubbing his abused bottom, Victor clambered to his knees frantically, using the wall as an aid to get off the floor. He was about to make the journey down the hall in search for Yuri's room when he heard an alarming sound that made him sink back down onto his knees.

It was like a sob.

A really soft sob.

Not just any soft sob. It was a heartbroken, lost-and-desperate, red-faced, snot-dripping, fat tears, ugly crying, desperately hushed and dampened for the fear of being found kind of sob.

And it was coming from the bathroom.

Victor's head snapped towards the direction of the room curiously, noticing that the sliding door was partly open. Intrigue and dread peaking, Victor scooted across the floor on his knees, attempting to be both discrete and quiet, however he was painfully aware that he was neither of those two things. Once he reached the door that separated the hallway from the bathroom, he slid as close to the partially open door as he dared, attempting to dampen the sounds of his heavy breath, desperately straining his ears to hear the voice that belonged to the pitiful cries.

The voice whispering along with the teary cries was shaking with emotion that was both raw and powerful, but also heartachingly beautiful. That was when Victor realized that it had to be Yuri behind that door. It had to be. He'd recognize those whispering stutters and shaky sniffles anywhere.

Refocusing his scattered thoughts, Victor slowly turned his head to peek through the crack between the door and the wall. His eyes struggled to adjust to the bright white light that was filtering through the window from the early sun. At first, he didn't see anyone, just a fluttering white curtain and deep green bushes reaching up from outside the windows set above the sink that was partially visible from the crack between the doors. A clean, fresh bathroom. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Until he saw a line of red paint oozing across the white tiled floor, coming from somewhere outside his field of vision.

Then he realized that the red paint was far too liquid and runny to be paint.

A shadow—no a hunched body came into view.

Victor could make out pale skin... dark hair... what is that?

A rumpled white sleep shirt…?

Victor's muddled mind slowly started knitting together pieces of information he was witnessing in front of him, but he didn't really understand what was going on until he raised himself up in order to peer over Yuri's shoulder to discover what the boy's attention was so stubbornly fixed on. Then he saw Yuri.

Specifically, Yuri's arm.

More specifically, a long silver blade gleaming ferally against satin-soft skin that reddened and puckered in response. Thin lines of red quickly dripping priceless life out the delicate veins of precious blood. Victor's eyes widened and his heart thundered in his chest like a bird wishing to break free. Yuri... _his Yuri_ was... was...

Victor blinked uncomprehendingly at first. Then the darkness of reality slapped him in the face like a barbed metal baseball bat.

He saw stars.

No. Victor slumped to the ground, legs losing the ability to stand. His legs gave up on supporting him and slid out, angled at his sides as he sagged lifelessly.

NO. His hands turned into claws that pushed across his face and tangled in his hair as if attempting to keep a tight enough grip on something would change the faint and flickering, unreal image that stood before him.

NONONONONONO—

"Why?" a hesitant, emotion-ragged voice whispered. Victor blinked in confusion, momentarily believing that the voice was directing the vague question to him.

"Why?" the voice—Yuri—repeated.

"Why. Why. Why, _why, why, why,_ WHY. I shouldn't... useless… why, why, why, why am I... don't deserve... worthless..." Though Victor only caught snippets, he felt he caught the gist.

His jaw tensed, eyes going hard. How dare they. _How dare they_. How dare _anyone_ tell this… this… this absolute _gift_ of a human being, that he wasn't _worth_ … that he didn't _deserve..._ How could someone look into such pure, beautiful eyes and say such _horrible_ things... Victor clenched his fist, biting hard on his lip in disgust. Some people were just so...

Then it really hit him.

Yuri was doing it. Now. Like, _right_ _now_ , right now. He was lowering that God-awful blade to his beautiful skin.

Victor stared at the floor with a stunned expression. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Bust the door down like a cop from a cheesy movie and scare the ever-loving crap out of his room-mate-of-sorts? Wouldn't that create a dent in their…relationship? Should he leave him alone and address the problem passively? As he contemplated the issue he faced, Victor had distracted his gaze from Yuri. Hearing a pained gasp, Victor's attention immediately grasped onto the image of a boy marking his skin, painting the floor in red.

"Боже мой!" Victor practically shouted, throwing tact and grace to the wind as he slammed into the door, belatedly remembering that doors in Japan are slightly different from other countries. You know, because of the fact that they _SLIDE_ TO OPEN, INSTEAD OF _PUSHING_. This accident resulted in a loud crash as Victor barreled head first into the door, bouncing off the hard surface. Recovering quickly, Victor didn't pause to gauge the reaction of the poor kid (who must be thinking there was a bar fight outside his bathroom door) before sliding the thin door open so hard, it rattled on its frame. For a moment, he stood in the doorway, his arms bracing against the doorway to hold himself up, sweat pouring down his face, his eyes burning with anger and worry.

"Stop, _stop_ , _STOP_ _во имя Бога стоп!"_ He shouted after catching his breath, wildly throwing himself on the smaller figure in front of him. Yuri hit the deck with a strangled yelp that would have been comical, had the situation not been so dire. Victor ripped the stained knife out of the smaller boy's hands and sent it hurtling across the room. Both winced at the clattering sound it created when it slammed into the wall.

"What are you doing? ты в своем уме?! Я не понимаю!" Victor was practically screaming, face turning a brilliant scarlet, eyes becoming suspiciously wet. Yuri stared up at Victor in awe from an awkwardly suggestive position under the Russian skater.

"You kn-know I h-h-have n-no ide-a wh-what y-you're saying..." Yuri stuttered softly, still able to blush like a blooming pink rose in embarrassment at his awkward position. Victor, who had been sitting on Yuri, throwing his arms around in the air and ranting in Russian, had immediately frozen in place, realizing he was probably terrifying his best friend.

"Oh God. I-I'm sorry…. I…I…" Victor struggled to breath, feeling as if he were drowning in air, while starving for oxygen at the same time. He scrambled off of Yuri, falling backwards on his bum and awkwardly scuttling backwards until his back hit the shower stall with a harsh thud.

"I didn't mean to... I was just trying to... please, I..." Victor trailed, his gaze captivated by the thin, red wrists which had been abused and were now being neglected by their owner. He felt so disoriented, so out of place. Yuri sat up, hands bracing himself on the floor, his shoulders hunched up to his ears defensively. It broke Victor's heart to think that he was the reason Yuri was so drawn in and nervous.

"I-it's... okay." Yuri stuttered, not meeting his coach's eyes. He pulled his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs and burying his eyes into his kneecaps. Victor felt his heart shatter at the image.

"Yuri..." He whispered quietly. Suddenly he heard sobs and frantic gasps from the little ball of misery and anxiety in front of him. Victor sprang from his spot on the floor and practically threw himself on Yuri, who squawked like an eaglet, arms rushing up to catch Victor before he faceplanted onto the floor. Victor clutched Yuri close to his chest, burying his nose into the fluffy dark hair, memorizing its soft clean smell.

"Why?" Victor whispered, voice cracking. Yuri looked up in confusion, but Victor just held on tighter. "Why would you... why? It's like cutting rose petals… why would you do that?" Yuri didn't answer, but chose to sigh contentedly into Victor's neck, his shorter arms wrapping around the taller man's torso, dragging bright red stains across the other's athletic wear.

"Who said... Who told you... told you that?" Victor stammered, his voice catching in his throat, unable to repeat those horrid words that Yuri had whispered to himself. Yuri pulled back, staring with soft eyes up at Victor.

"Wh-who s-said what? Wh-what are you t-trying to say?" he asked patiently, roles switching between members of the odd friendship. This thought pained Victor. He let out a bitter laugh and dropped his forehead to Yuri's thinly clothed shoulder, reveling in the warmth.

"Who told you that you are worthless?" he blurted out so quietly, he thought Yuri might not have heard him. The tensed muscles and lack of breathing told Victor otherwise.

"I... no one in particular..." Yuri trailed off, fiddling with the ends of Victor's silky hair. Victor reached up to gently grasp Yuri's wrists, which were dying his light hair pink with crimson life, and pulled them to his lap.

"Who?" his rough voice begged, eyes bleeding with emotion. Yuri bit his lip, looking down.

"Seriously, I don't even remember their names...I- I just... They were dumb... schoolyard bullies, faceless people online— it d-doesn't matter _who_ said it... or _what_ they said... it just…sticks, you know? It sticks... And I guess with all the things I've been... I've been losing… I don't handle loss well. Or failure. Or anything negative really. And you and-and everyone else are just... just s-so _good_ while I... I can't do anything..." Yuri trailed off, his throat becoming too tight with emotion to say much else.

"Stick? What does that even... why does it stick? Who cares what they think? They're wrong anyways!" Victor exclaimed, suddenly releasing Yuri's wrists as if he were burned when the other boy winced and hissed at the pressure his injuries received from Victor's white-knuckled grip. Yuri placed his small palms over Victor's lips to stop the ceaseless apologies, blushing when Victor boldly kissed his hands.

"It's... it's okay, really it's fine I-I don't care what they think, not really." Yuri looked down, dropping his hand onto his lap. He flinched when warm, strong hands gripped the sides of his face, raising his head. Dark chocolate met skyline blue.

"Don't look down. Don't be ashamed. Don't berate yourself." Yuri opened his mouth, about to argue that he wasn't berating himself, though he had done something _disgusting_ , but Victor silenced him with one raised finger.

"You've done something scary, something that breaks my heart, but you've done nothing that you should be mad about or embarrassed over. Are you listening?" Victor demanded, tapping Yuri's cheek when the boy's gaze drifted to the side. Yuri gave a sharp nod, snapping to attention.

"You don't believe me." Victor realized sadly, hands dropping to Yuri's shoulders. Yuri shook his head quickly, arms waving defensively in front of him.

"O-of course I b-believe you, Victor! Wha-what do you mean—"

"Yuri don't lie, I can tell when you're lying." Yuri's sad smile dropped completely and his now-dried wrists fell to the floor. A moment of silence spread between them, giving Victor the chance to wonder just where Yuri's parents were. From all the shouting and falling and slamming that had happened in the bathroom, it would have been reasonable to believe that a mature, responsible adult would come running, seeing as the child of those responsible adults was last seen in the bathroom and their idol was last seen heading in the direction of the— oh. _Oh_.

That's why they hadn't come.

Victor's face glowed red.

"Hey... Yuri..." Yuri looked up expectantly and Victor was once again taken by the boy's feminine features. From his soft skin and hair to his large eyes and lips, his face hardly passed for male.

"I was wondering..." Victor trailed off, swallowing hard. "You know..." Victor looked away. "You know you're... important…right?" Yuri's eyes widened.

"I... what?"

"I heard some of the things you were... you were saying when you... when you were... doing that... and you said... well it sounded like you didn't think you, well, mattered." Victor blurted out. He felt ridiculously flustered and found himself unable to find the right words, which was an unnatural feeling for him. Yuri stared up at him with the awe and wonder that seemed more fit for angels and gods, than a babbling, blushing coach. Victor flinched when Yuri threw his arms around him and crawled into his lap, his actions much louder than any words he could have possibly said.

"Without you so much would change. You can't do something like that. You can't just eject yourself from this world like that. So, what I'm asking is why would you want to?" Victor asked, his arms falling naturally around Yuri's narrow waist.

"I... I mean, no one really... No one really..." Yuri had his face pressed into Victor's red stained shirt, his words muffled into oblivion.

"What was that?" Yuri sighed in response, turning his head sideways so he didn't have to see Victor's face while still keeping his own face uncovered, therefore was easier to hear.

"Ugh, it— it sounds so... childish..." Yuri pouted, looking self-conscious as he wrapped his arms around himself in a pseudo-hug.

"No reason to do this is childish. This is no childish act, Katsuki Yuri." Victor argued sternly. Yuri sighed and tried again to convey his reasoning.

"No one— God, this is so stupid sounding, seriously I sound like a teenage girl who can't get a boyfriend… no one needs me." Victor felt his soul crash, his heart plummet and his breath shudder. "I mean, it's true that I don't actually do anything to contribute to the world." Victor stared down at Yuri in confusion. "Honestly, if I weren't here... literally nothing would change." Yuri didn't seem to notice the dark pit of emotion his coach was falling into because he paused with a finger to his chin as he gazed to the side thoughtfully. "Well… that's not entirely true." Victor breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Go— "Maybe you would have some more free time without a whiny brat pulling you down by the skate laces so you can't actually enjoy yourself in anything, and maybe you'll coach Yurio. He deserves it. He'd be really happy if you coached him. He wouldn't show it though, you know how he is. Hey, you should coach him, Victor. You probably won't if I'm still here though. You don't leave things unfinished like that. Right Victor?" Yuri looked up with such heartbreakingly innocent eyes full of so much pure emotion, Victor wanted to cry.

"Oh, Yuri..." Victor pulled Yuri as close as he possibly could, clinging to his pupil as if he were life itself.

"Oh, Yuri, you mean so much. So much. I would never... Yuri, I would never…how could you ever think..." Victor placed his hands on either side of Yuri's face and lifted the boy's head, staring into his eyes with fierce passion. "Never say you don't deserve my coaching or something stupid like that. God, Yuri, you deserve the _world_! Can't you see that? I love being your coach, I love teaching you and learning from you! Can't you see that? How can you not see that?" Victor felt warm wetness sliding down his hands. His eyes widened as he realized that the warmth was Yuri's tears cascading down his fingers.

"Oh God! What did I... Did I do something... I'm sorry! I—" Victor stuttered, only to be interrupted by shaky laughter. He looked up to see Yuri, eyes shining, tears pouring and still, he had the energy to laugh.

"No, no, no! You- you did no-nothing wro-wrong." Yuri shuddered from his tearing up episode, patting Victor comfortingly on the shoulders. Victor inwardly groaned. _He_ was the one who was supposed to be consoling _Yuri_ , not the other way around.

"Yuri. I did everything _wrong_." Victor chastised himself with a whining voice. He squeezed Yuri close, his face pressed into the front of Yuri's white shirt.

"Wh-what—"

"You spent how long believing that you weren't... weren't anything? How long? And I didn't notice? What kind of coach am I- what kind of _friend_ am I—" something like velvet was covering Victor's lips again. But this time it wasn't Yuri's hands. Once Victor was effectively silenced, Yuri pulled back, breathing heavily, his face and breath heated. How out of character of Yuri. How surprising of Yuri. How completely and wonderfully _Eros_ , of Yuri.

"You did... _nothing_ wrong." Yuri's voice was raw with emotion and fury, only emphasized by the small, stabbing hands on Victor's chest. Victor looked down at the little tornado of emotions and fury that had planted itself on his lap. _What was happening? Why was Yuri not mad at him? Why was Yuri not blaming him?_

"But I should have—"

"What? Should have-have followed me all over the place, like-like-like some kind of-of lost puppy or something?" Yuri demanded angrily. Shocked at the sudden outburst from such a docile, calm person, Victor blinked, frozen in place.

"Should you have, like, watch-tched me? St-stalked me?" Yuri's voice seemed to be rising in both pitch and volume to amazingly loud and impressively high tones.

"What- no! Yuri, come on, I didn't mean it like that—" Victor scoffed, only to be cut off.

"Which means that you're b-both honest and normal." Yuri interrupted. Victor cocked his head in confusion.

"Normal p-people don't stalk th-their friends. Even if they _are_ acting suspic-icious." Yuri clarified, a slight smirk settling on his face. Victor grinned, pressing his face into Yuri's hair.

"Still, I should have noticed—"

"Did I act much differently?" Yuri interrupted, voice suddenly bold.

"...sorry?" Victor pulled back, cocking his head like a confused puppy, much to Yuri's amusement.

"I said, did I act any differently? Lately... lately have you noticed me speaking differently, acting differently- anything like that? Have you noticed me being any different than how I was when we met?" Yuri clarified while simultaneously confusing Victor even further.

"I... I don't... you mean like..." Victor flailed for words. "No. No I don't think so." Yuri nodded at his answer.

"And can you wager a guess as to why that is?" Yuri whispered, fiddling with the hem of Victor's shirt. Victor looked down at his lap, blatant confusion written across his sharp features. He bit his lip, brow furrowed in a clear display of concentration.

"I don't—" Victor started, obviously not understanding. Yuri huffed in irritation and butted in with an explanation.

"It _means_ that I've been like this since before I knew you. That means there is no way you could have possibly figured out something was going on. There was no way for you to know that this isn't how I normally act." Yuri said softly, hoping his words would sink in to his distressed friend. Victor, however, seemed to still be floundering for something to say, his expression clearly expressing his self-loathing. Yuri forced Victor to look at him, holding the other's face between his small hands.

"It's not your fault." Yuri told him with a grave expression. "It's not. Your. Fault." Victor's brilliant cerulean eyes filled with glistening tears. Yuri grinned knowingly, tightening his arms around his coach. Victor pressed his face into Yuri's shoulder, his tears cascading down the smaller one's back.

"Vic...?" Yuri started with concern, feeling Victor shaking in his arms. Then little giggles erupted from beside him. "Um... Victor are you...?"

"This is a bit backwards, isn't it? Aren't I supposed to be comforting _you_?" Victor muttered, his arms wrapping around Yuri's waist. Yuri grinned in response.

"I g-guess you c-could say that." Yuri shook his head. "B-but someti-times... it's better t-to do things together... r-right?" Yuri chuckled nervously, lying his head on Victor's chest, seeking peace and comfort. Victor marveled at how perfectly they fit together and how just like a warm, downy blanket Yuri was. How soft Yuri's hands were. How delicate his features were. How deep his eyes were.

Victor shuddered as he realized that he could have been to losing such a special person.

 **AN:**

 **Hope you enjoyed it! I'm expecting I'll be posting the next chapter soon, so stay with** **me,** **people, hang in there.**

 **Feel free to drop me a review and let me know what you think, I'm open to criticism, if I suck, let me know, if I'm awesome then definitely let me know (just kidding!). I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. English may be my first language, but I still struggle!**

 **I'm still deciding on where I should go next with this, so let me know if you have any awesome-tastic ideas. I love collaboration!**


	2. Aftershock and His Sister Anxiety

**AN: I'm somewhere between 99% and 100% sure that I didn't put a disclaimer in the last chapter…. So….**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri! on Ice. I just live through it vicariously.**

 **This is a tad bit short, but it's pretty angsty and whatnot so I think it'll be all good. Please don't hate me. Also, a big thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed and all the things, I love you guys! Now, on with the show!**

CH2- Aftershock and His Sister Anxiety

Victor woke slowly, his mind not really working correctly or processing information in any way, shape or form. He lay peacefully still in a quiet world, not wanting to get up for fear of disturbing the peace and silence that he had so little of in his colourful life. The sun streaming in gently from the window was golden and warm, making Victor want to sink deeper into his plush mattress and cozy thick blankets. He snuggled into his fluffy pillow, only to experience frigid cold as he moved to far over and his cheek slid across a cool, unused part of the pillow that his body heat had yet to warm. Groaning and grimacing at the slight annoyance, Victor opened his eyes for real this time, glancing at his clock. Bright red numbers proclaimed it to be 9:45. Not fully reading the numbers, Victor continued to dully squint at the glaringly bright numbers that meant something important, though he couldn't put his finger on just what importance the numbers meant. He continued to stare for a few more moments before slowly raised his head from the pillow, a look of comprehension and panic spreading across his face as realization spread as slowly as melting butter on a fluffy warm pancake.

He was late.

 _He_ was _late_.

Late to what you might ask?

Late only to the most important thing in his life at the moment.

Yuri. Er, Yuri's lessons, that is. Not that Yuri himself was the only thing that kept Victor going sometimes, the beacon of light shining his way through the shadows and storm clouds of life…

No, of course that wasn't it.

Of course.

As he shook his head to clear his muddled mind, Victor's heart started frantically beating with the realization that arose from the sudden _oh-God-I'm-late_ feeling. He sprang out of bed and catapulted across the room, though it was more like a fumbling fall and staggering stumble than anything else. He began rummaging through the closet, throwing shirts and sweats and jeans to the ground in his attempts to find something to wear. Tugging on a pair of grey sweatpants and a wrinkled, fitted undershirt, Victor made a mad dash out of his room, forgetting (again) to grab a jacket to protect himself from the early morning's chill. He twisted and turned down the halls, doing his best to avoid people and corners and tables, though his hip had quite the introduction to several tables and his elbow kissed a few walls with more enthusiasm than expected.

When he finally came to the building's entrance, Victor fell to the ground in a dramatic slide, yanking his shoes on without giving enough attention to tie them, and was up and running through the door in seconds. Taking the steps two at a time, Victor practically flew down the stairs that lead from the hilltop that the hot springs home was set upon down to civilization below that lay slowly awakening. His feet slapped loudly on the concrete as he bolted down the side of the road so quickly, it felt as if his feet were no longer attached to or controlled by him. He had an unexplainable sensation that was urging him to get to the ice rink as quickly as possible. It was like a "life or death" feeling.

"Hey, slow down!" Victor was jolted from his own analysis of his feelings when a young woman in a neon track suit shouted, veering to the left as Victor darted past her. Victor didn't slow down when he voiced his apology, but instead he threw it over his shoulder, hoping the wind would send it to her. A horn blared as Victor attempted to cross the street while traffic sped by and his travelling attention switched back to the present.

"о боже!" Victor gasped, hand flying to his chest as if to calm his heart, though it had leapt to his throat at the sound of the cacophonous horn. He took a few gasping breaths, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for the walking light to turn green. "поспешность, поспешность," he chanted under his breath. When the blood-red light flicked to a blinding green, Victor was off like a rocket. He raced across the street in record time and pounded up the stairs to the ice rink, ignoring the burning in his legs, which pleaded with him slow his pace. He muttered curses against the Japanese customs of making thousand step staircases to every single blasted building, which made it impossible to get anywhere quickly. He was panting with a pink tinged face by the time he managed to get up the stairs. He paused just a second to calm himself and breath evenly, but was instantly on the move. He burst through the heavy double doors with a metallic clang that echoed through the empty rink.

"Sorry I'm late, Yu—" Victor stopped when he realized that there was no one in the rink. "Yu…ri?" he asked uncertainly, his breathy voice echoing through the cavernous building. There was no one on the ice and it didn't seem like anyone at all was in the building. He walked along the edge of the rink, relishing in the soothing cool air that was wafting off the ice and onto his burning face, stinging his exhausted senses. "Yuri, are you here?" he came up to the benches that the two usually occupy during their practices and, indeed, he found Yuri's equipment bag resting under it, his skates lying abandoned on top of the bench. Victor lightly touched the blades of the skates with one finger, his face contorted in confusion.

"Yuri…." Victor, struck with an idea, pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent his fingers zooming across the screen as he began calling his missing friend. The cheerful tone began jangling and Victor's head whipped up as he began fallowing the sound like a bloodhound after a rabbit.

"Yuri?" Victor called out with more confidence, cautiously hedging along the rounded ice rink.

"Yuri, I know you're here. I can hear your phone~!" he called out with a teasing song in his voice. He slunk across the rink wall until he came to a pair of doors, one proclaiming to be the women's restroom, the other the men's room. The tone stopped jingling as it cut to voicemail, but Victor knew where Yuri was. He pushed the bathroom door open.

"Yuri, I'm coming in!" he announced boldly, pocketing his phone as he stepped into the brightly lit room. He peered around the room, searching for any signs of life until he saw a closed stall. He sighed, crossing his arms.

"Yuri. I know you're in here." He proclaimed, expecting a shy and sheepish student to come out of the stall, blushing and begging for forgiveness. When nothing happened, Victor's brow furrowed and he approached the offending stall.

"Yuri, you aren't crying in there again, are you?" he asked through the door, only half-joking. There was no answer. He sighed, a little irritated, mostly worried. "Come on, I know you're in there…" He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the stall door, sighing.

"Yuri—" he opened his eyes and his voice choked to silence. He couldn't look away, his every muscle locking him in place.

There was blood. `

So much blood.

So much red.

So much.

It was oozing out from under the stall. He was standing in it.

He jumped back, leaving footprints of red smears across the white tiled floor. That was blood. Those smears were blood. Frantically, Victor tried to scrub the blood off his shoe by scraping it against the ground before reality finally shocked him back to the present.

"Yu—Yuri! _Yuri_!" he jolted back to the stall and pounded on it in a wild act of desperation, but the door swung right open. Lying on the now dark red tile, was Yuri.

A still, unmoving Yuri.

A red covered, pale looking Yuri.

"Yu…ri?" Victor asked confused, not fully comprehending. He cocked his head to the side, blinking owlishly at his friend. He fell hard to his knees as his legs gave up their efforts to slow him and finally took matters into their own… hands. A dull thud echoed throughout the quiet room. The stillness was suffocating. Victor continued to stare straight ahead at the body lying slumped across the cool tile. Blood seeped into Victor's sweatpants, staining the high-quality fabric which was soaking up the red life as if it wanted to preserve the now chilled liquid forever. Tears, hot as fire, began streaming down Victor's slack-jawed face as he stared down at the only light in his dark, lonely life. That light which had been snuffed out. He tentatively reached a shaking hand out to Yuri but stopped, hovering just above the other boy's arm. His hand lowered slowly and rested on the other's arm.

A cold, stiff arm.

A horrible, aching scream ripped through Victor's throat, scraping his vocal chords and sending knives of agony through the sill air. He gripped Yuri's arm, his other hand covering his mouth to keep his ragged sobs and heaving breaths as quiet as possible. His hand slid up to cover his eyes, the other gripping even tighter on Yuri's unmoving arm. He heard the clatter of metal clinking to the hard floor and raised his head, fair skin blushed and eyes swelling with glistening tears.

A knife.

A knife was on the floor.

A knife covered with blood.

Victor stared in shock.

"No… no, Yuri… you didn't…you wouldn't…" trembling fingers pushed up the black sleeves of the jacket that sculpted to Yuri's body. Scars— white, some purple. Scabs— dark red, almost black. Lines— bright, bright crimson and fresh.

Further examination was not needed to discover what happened.

Victor felt a hot fiery rage boiling in his chest, and his body trembled as his breath hitched uncontrollably. He lashed out, grabbing the knife from the floor, and flung it across the room, feeling a deep satisfaction as the knife somehow struck on of the tall, shining mirrors, shattering both objects. Fractures of glass and metal tinkled to the floor, red drips flying everywhere, dotting the once pristine floors and walls with crimson. The bathroom looked like a murder scene. He turned his attention back to Yuri, who was still lying, curled up in front of the toilet. What was he going to do now? How could this life just…vanish? How could Victor have not noticed? He could have saved Yuri! He could have—

Victor gave into the painful sobs that racked his already tremoring body. He reached over and put his arms around the boy, pulling him close to his chest. Yuri's head fell on his shoulder and Victor clung to him, sobbing into his raven dark hair.

"Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, Yuri …" he gasped, uttering the sweet name that meant home, and family, and warmth. That sweet name which was now cold, and still, and dark, contrasting deeply to the brilliant warmth and spectacular life it had once been.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" He chanted, regretting every time he had ever left Yuri alone, even if it was for a moment, even if it was simply because they slept in different rooms.

"It's all my fault, all my fault, all mine, mine, mine, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, please, please, please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please, plea—"

"Victor?" a hushed, breathy voice asked uncertainly. Victor flinched back, almost letting go of the body in his arms. Then he realized that the voice had actually come from… the body in his arms. The body whose head had turned to stare up at Victor with soulless black eyes, his once soothingly innocent face turned into a dark parody.

"Yuri… You… You're back… You're back!" Victor exclaimed, joy tingling and warming him throughout his body. But his joy was not long-lived.

"Why did you let me die? You let me die… you killed me. It's your fault. Your fault," Yuri's voice was steadily increasing in volume and a deep rushing sound started pounding in Victor's ears as he stared agape, not comprehending. Victor's smile had long ago melted off and been replaced with a look of horror. "… your fault… your fault… _YOUR FAULT. YOUR FAULT. YOUR FAULT. YOUR—"_

Victor jerked awake with a yell, his legs tangling in something heavy as he thudded to the floor, a mess of limbs and the heavy object that had tangled him. Wordless shouting erupted from the room next to him and Victor began fighting off the heavy thing, which turned out to be his blankets. He let out loud, wordless exclamations that were somewhere between growling angrily and whimpering with frustration. Suddenly, a question toned voice exclaim something unintelligible from the room next door and a loud squeak of ancient door hinges ripped through the air. Victor continued to spaz around his room as he was vaguely aware of steady pounding coming down the hall, stopping abruptly at his door where sharp rapping against the old wood.

"U-um, Victor?" Victor's eyes were glazed over and his ears were unhearing as he convulsed with the desire to free himself.

"Victor? Victor are you in there? Are you okay? I-I heard yelling, did you- did you trip? A-are you okay?!" Victor's head whipped up from his focus on his tangled blankets, suddenly snapping to. That voice. He knew that voice. That voice was Yuri. But was that the dead, haunting Yuri? Or was that an alive Yuri? Was Yuri alive? Was Victor alive?

"Yuri?" Victor called out, his voice cracking and shaking.

"Victor? Victor, it's m-me, Victor, it's Yuri! Please, o-open the door! Please!" Yuri ordered, though unable to be completely outright demanding without offering the polite word. His knocking became much more insistent. When he realized that this was the real Yuri, Victor snapped into action. He was now desperately fighting off the blankets that were squeezing him like a python choking out its prey, his pleas for help getting louder by the second.

"I can't—can't—argh!" Victor yelled, feeling trapped and vulnerable.

"V-Victor, are you okay? Victor, s-say something! Please!" Yuri demanded. Victor struggled to find the words to express his situation and merely kicked at his blankets, which were twisting more than they were coming undone.

"Victor, I… I'm coming in!" Yuri announced, voice suddenly hardened. And with that, before Victor could yell out that the door was locked, the door banged open and Yuri stampeded in, throwing all caution to the wind.

Victor stared up at Yuri, drinking in the image of his student so alive and full of emotion, gripping the doorknob with one hand, his other bracing against the doorway. Yuri's hair was severely disheveled, and his short athletic shorts and long-sleeved t-shirt were wrinkled and worn. But to Victor he was beauty, and life, and everything else.

At first Yuri's worried eyes searched Victor's bed in a quick scan, but when he found no Victor, his attention turned to the floor where he found the struggling, frustrated growling coach. "V-Victor, are you okay?" Yuri fell to his knees dramatically, tugging on the numerous blankets wrapped around Victor's legs. Victor, however had stopped moving, attention captured by the face of the one he thought he had lost.

"Yuri? Is it really you?" he asked, not thinking about what he was saying. Yuri paused and cocked his head to the side, a rather endearing show of confusion.

"What do you mean? Of course, it's me." He shook his head and turned back to the detangling of blankets but Victor put a hand on his arm, then shivered at the memory of doing the same thing in his dream. Upon feeling the tremble from Victor, Yuri glanced back to find Victor panicking, his forced breathing sounding wheezy and stressed. "Oh, Victor… was it a bad dream?" Yuri asked gently, cupping his coach's sweating face. That small, sensitive question was enough to send Victor and his distressed mind over the edge. He began choking on his breaths which mingled with sobs, salty tears pouring down his face and mixing, rolling down Yuri's hands like a waterfall. Yuri stared in wonder, unsure of what was happening, but he quickly shook himself and moved to comfort his coach. "W-what happened? Do… do you want to talk about it? I'll listen— if you want me to." Yuri whispered, petting Victor's normally silken hair that was now in tangles and ruffles like it hadn't been brushed in days.

"I don't—I can't—it was—" Victor broke off, a swelling anxiety getting the best of him.

"Hey, hey… take a deep breath. You don't have to tell me right this second if you can't. It's going to be okay, I've got you." Yuri felt surprisingly calm. On a normal day, he would have been stuttering and stumbling around, not knowing what to do. But those little things were shoved to the side as concern took over Yuri's mind instead. Victor suddenly grabbed Yuri's arms, pulling his sleeves up so his wrists were in view. Yuri flinched at the abrupt movement. Victor stared down at the thin white scars, the only things the blemished the otherwise smooth, cream colored skin. He ran his thumbs over Yuri's wrist gently, mostly to sooth himself than the other. "Victor, what—" Yuri started, a little discontentedly. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, it was just… different.

"You died." Victor stated bluntly, squeezing the delicate arms in his grasp.

"I… what?"

"In my dream," Victor clarified, void of emotion as he continued to stare at the slim arms he clutched in his hands. "You died. You died and it was my fault." Yuri blinked, clearly not having expected that.

"I... how— how did I... die? Some sort of freak accident? To be honest, that's- that's how I see myself going." Yuri chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"I wasn't there." Victor muttered, eyes boring holes into the floor.

"You weren't... I'm sorry, but… but I'm not following." Yuri admitted hesitantly. "You weren't where?"

"I woke up late. When I got the rink, I couldn't find you. You were in the bathroom and—"

Victor took a shuddering breath. "You were dead, Yuri! In the bathroom, on the floor, you were dead!" he spat out. "And it wasn't an accident, you killed—" Victor couldn't go any farther.

"I killed myself." Yuri finished softly. Victor shook his head wildly, tears flying.

"It was my fault. I wasn't with you. If I were with you I could've… could've…"

"Could've what, Victor?" Yuri demanded, voice uncharacteristically sharp and cold. "Could've stopped me? Could've… could've taken the knife from my hand? And then what? Watched me and followed me around for the rest of my life? You can't do that, Victor. Come on, we _talked_ about this— remember? And— and you know there's going to come a time where… where you won't be able to be with me all the time. A-at some point, if I want it to happen, then it's going to happen. If I really wanted to…kill myself, you know I would find a way. I… I would find a way, Victor. Regardless of how close, or far away you are at the time. If I wanted to and you couldn't stop me… it… it wouldn't be your fault. Do you— do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Victor stared up at Yuri, gnawing his lip raw.

"But, if I was there… but I didn't… you…"

"I-it sucks. It r-really does, but it was a bad dream. It was fake, it won't happen, I can promise you, it will never happen." Upon hearing these words Victor threw himself on top of Yuri, the poor boy hitting the floor harder than a rock from the sky. Yuri instinctively closed his arms tightly around Victor as the distraught coach rested his forehead on Yuri's comfortable shoulder and pressed the boy close to his chest. Victor couldn't seem to hold his student close enough, tight enough, couldn't get enough of him in his arms.

"H-hey, I'm not going anywhere, y-you don't have to suffocate me!" Yuri laughed, his voice muffled by Victor's chest. Victor didn't move, or even acknowledge Yuri's comment.

"Victor?" Yuri asked hesitantly. Victor mumbled something in response, already feel sleep's iron weight. "Are you s-sleeping?" Grumbles from Victor. "Do you… do you want to go back to bed?" Victor's response was to burrow into Yuri's neck, inhaling the fresh sheets and rain smell before sighing contentedly. Yuri shook his head, a fond, exasperated smirk playing on his lips. He wrapped his arms securely around Victor and rose to his knees, the other's dead weight leaning against him. "God, for someone so in shape, you're _really_ heavy!" he complained, shuffling awkwardly to the wall beside Victor's bed.

"… 's sssolid… muscle…" Victor retorted groggily. Yuri rolled his eyes and braced his back against the wall, his arms wrapped tightly around Victor's waist. Once the two were remotely vertical, Yuri began slinking slowly to the bed, where he deposited his precious—but heavy— cargo. He rolled Victor onto his back and grabbed the now untangled blankets and spread them gently across Victor to protect from the cool air of night. He turned to leave, but found himself yanked to a stop, a hand clenching his wrist. He glanced behind himself and found Victor blinking up at him sluggishly, his eyelids barely opening to reveal light blue, almost grey eyes.

"Stay?" he requested. Yuri blinked, surprise clearly written across his features. "Pleeeaassse…" Victor slurred, sleep threatening to completely drag him down with its soft, inviting fingers. Yuri grinned at the childish tone in his friend's sleepy voice.

"Of course. Of course, Vic, of course." Yuri assured him, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed, trying to disturb Victor as little as possible. His plans, however, were foiled when Victor reached across the edge of the bed that he had been slid to and gripped Yuri around the waist, effectively spoiling any hope of Yuri getting up any time soon. Victor dragged his student closer to him, pinning the boy to both himself and the bed with an iron grip.

"Um, Victor, d-don't you think this is a little—a-and you're already asleep." Yuri shook his head, a small exasperated smile played fondly on his face. "You're hopeless." He muttered, his smile never leaving his face as he rolled in Victor's grip so he faced his coach. He slid so his head fit perfectly under Victor's chiseled chin, and molded himself more snuggly to Victor's chest. An unconscious sigh of blissful content left Victor. Yuri grinned at the sound, relishing in how reassuring and familiar it was. His smile melted from his face as he bit his lip, remembering the horrifying nightmare that had been described to him.

"Hopefully, I can keep your nightmares away, right?" he whispered to Victor, who snuffled his hair in response. Yuri giggled. "I'll do my best."

 **AN:**

 **Aw. Adorable, right? You're not at all slightly emotionally destroyed, right?**

 **I've got a third chapter ready to post soon, but I have no idea where to go after that. Throw some thoughts and ideas at me, even if you think they're stupid (trust me, your ideas are not stupid, they're unique and beautiful!) and I'll try to come up with stuff on my own too, and I'll see if I can wrangle up a fourth chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Skate With Me

**AN:**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri! on Ice (is it three exclamation points? I think it is. IDK I'm in OpenOffice right now and I don't feel like double checking. Sorry)**

 **I feel like both Victor and Yuri are a bit OC. Yuri still stutters and is a bit awkward, but he has these sudden really bold moments and Victor is just a… mess. Like a girl after an awful breakup or something. I'm just going to say that they're acting like this because of Yuri's little "thing," as they call it. I also have a different view of the characters I see in TV shows and such. They're portrayed in the show or movie differently than I see them in my head. Drop a comment if you're like this, too. Otherwise I'm probably just crazy. I'm probably just crazy.**

 **Okay I'm done, on with the show!**

CH3- Skate with Me

Victor woke slowly, the bliss of warm covers wrapped snuggly around him kept him from getting up and starting the day. His cocoon of softness was heavenly, why would he want to leave that? He rolled over, hoping to find the maximum comfort when he felt something harder than blankets but still soft. Scrunching his eyebrows in confusion, Victor started open his eyes, but something warm began smoothing the lines of his face, barely touching him, giving the most incredible massage he'd ever felt. He nuzzled his nose into the squishy appendage that had stopped massaging and began poking his nose. An airy giggled came from the hard-yet-soft surface he was curling his body around. The sound, though it was nearly silent, was enough to wake Victor. Blinking sleepily and smacking his lips, Victor lifted his head from the pillow swung his head around in search for the massager. His eyes landed on a lump covered mostly by blankets that was lying under him. The lump that had a hand still on Victor's face. The hand must have been the thing touching him. The hand that was connected to the lump. The lump which was actually a person. The lump—

Oh, dear sweet Lord, the lump is Yuri.

The reaction was immediate.

Victor jerked back from Yuri in shock, tangling himself once again in the thick warm blankets. He writhed and twisted, attempting to free himself from the cocoon which had become his prison, only to find himself slipping backwards. He grappled uselessly at the slippery smooth sheets as his bottom fell off the bed, the rest of him following not too far behind. He landed on his rear with a thud and the room was silent. Only for a moment. Loud guffaws erupted from Yuri, who was now sitting up in the bed with his arms wrapped around his stomach. His face turning a brilliant red and eyes glistening with tears of laughter.

"A-are yo-ou okay-y?" Yuri managed to gasp out. Victor pulled himself up by the mattress and stood by the bed, scratching his head in confusion.

"What…what…" he trailed off, words not coming easily.

"What…happened? Is that what you're asking?" Yuri offered helpfully. Victor merely nodded, not trusting his own mind to formulate the right words. "Nothing really. You had a bad dream, woke me up in the middle of the night. I came over to check on you— oh yeah, you need a new door by the way— and you were freaking out. All I managed to get out of you was that your dream—" Yuri stopped suddenly as if he couldn't figure out how to delicately word the situation.

"Yeah, I—uh— remember." Victor rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"You said something about it being your fault—"

"Oh, yes, and you gave me a speech of how wrong I was, I remember that… but why are you… I don't mean to be rude, I love having you here, but why _are_ you here?" Victor asked, glad that at least part of his memory had returned.

"Oh, well… you see… you were really, well, all over the place when I finally got you into bed." Realizing how that sounded, Yuri flushed. "I mean, got you into your own bed! Like, alone, in your bed, to sleep and stuff!" Victor let out a huff of laughter, signaling for Yuri to continue. "You were— well, I thought you were asleep— but you asked me to stay. I figured you weren't really all _there_ at the moment, but you wouldn't calm down until I got in bed with you. So, I stayed." That simple declaration was enough to warm Victor's heart. It was a trickling warmth that tickled him from head to toe. He couldn't help but smile dopily.

"Thank you." Yuri's grin spread slowly like the warm breath of spring. "I mean it." Victor caught Yuri's eyes and stared into them. "That's… no one's ever done that for me and I… thank you." A light dusting of rose bloomed in Yuri's plush cheeks. Victor only beamed brighter when he saw this blush.

"You don't have to thank me… I would do it again." Yuri responded, reaching out to clutch Victor's hand between his own. He dragged Victor by the hand and pulled him down to the sit on the bed. Victor dropped his face into his free hand, while Yuri squeezed his other hand tighter.

"I'm sorry… it's just… I'm not—I'm not like this. This isn't me… I don't know what's going on…" Victor let out a shaky, almost hysterical laugh. "I'm not like this, I'm not." He insisted, sounding like he was attempting to convince himself more than anyone else.

"There's nothing wrong with what you're going through—" Yuri attempted to smooth and heal the rumpled, raw emotions that spilled from Victor's words.

"Do you hear yourself?" Victor interrupted, swinging around and glaring with wet eyes at Yuri. "You're the one who's…. who's….and—are you…? I don't know, I don't even know—I saw you… and somehow I don't even know…" Victor trailed off and then a look of sudden comprehension spread on his face. "Are you...?"

"Am I what?" Yuri asked shakily, yet patiently, running soothing hands across Victor's arm while attempting to follow Victor's babbling.

"Are you… are you suicidal?" Victor whispered quickly, as if the word were forbidden. The reaction was instantaneous. Yuri went rigid, he absolutely froze and Victor was pretty certain he had even stopped breathing.

"No," Yuri shook his head. "No." Normally, Victor would have accepted Yuri's answer, trusting his student to always be honest with him, but when Yuri didn't stop shaking his head, he felt his belief in Yuri's answer slipping.

"Yuri?" Victor asked suspiciously.

"Yeah?" Yuri's normally high voice seemed to pitch even farther up the octave.

"Are you lying to me?" Victor asked bluntly, gripping Yuri's hand tightly when the other attempted to pull away. "Yuri please." Yuri looked away, his eyes trailing from the wall to the floor to the ceiling to the drawer chest to the door—literally everywhere but Victor. "I'm sorry but, you aren't very subtle." Victor deadpanned. Yuri gave a timid giggle, nervously gripping the back of his neck with the free hand that wasn't being choked by Victor's anxious grip. Nerves jangled, Victor grasped Yuri by the sides of his face, forcing the smaller to look him in the eye.

"You can tell me." Victor told him, honesty gleaming in his eyes. Yuri gaped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish until Victor gently grasped his chin. Yuri's wide brown eyes began filling with tears. Victor felt his own shoulders slack with guilt and an aching sadness. "It's okay." He whispered as Yuri began gasping for breath, frantically attempting to hold his tears back and keep his emotions at bay. Victor's face contorted into a pained expression and he wrapped his arms tightly around Yuri, tugging him to his chest. Yuri's labored breathing became sobs as Victor pressed his face into Yuri's hair. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay…." Victor chanted, his promise laced with love and loss. The two sat, comforted by each other's presence, the sound of soft breathing lulling them both into a sense of security and unity. For a while it was silent, Yuri's occasional sniffle or hiccup, and Victor's responding murmur were the only audible noises, though the steady thrum of Victor's heart soothed Yuri as well.

"I'm sorry." The whisper was so soft, so shaky that Victor was sure he had imagined it at first. He cocked his head to the side and pulled back slightly to look Yuri in the eyes to make sure he had heard correctly, but Yuri took the motion as an act of abandonment and clung tighter around Victor's torso.

"Calm down, I'm not leaving, I promise. I've got you." Victor shushed, rubbing small circles on Yuri's back. Yuri took a shuddering breath and buried his nose into Victor's chest, attempting to calm his rapid breathing.

"I… yes. I guess, I kind of… I don't know… it's been like this for a while. I never thought about it, but I guess… yeah…." Yuri stuttered and paused sporadically in his efforts to explain.

"It's okay, it's okay," Victor repeated as evenly as possible.

"No, it's not okay!" Yuri exclaimed abruptly, jerking back from Victor with an angry look on his red, teary face. "People die every day of painful diseases, and old age, and horrible accidents! The family and friends they leave behind suffer! They wish their loved one hadn't died, wish they could have protected their person and yet here I am—" Yuri's voice cracked horribly and he closed his eyes, biting his lip. "Here I am," he said roughly, bringing his voice down in volume. He took in a deep shuddery breath, trying again to explain. "Here I am, sitting here wishing that I could… go. So many people went that didn't deserve to go… so many people heartbroken because someone they love went… but I… I deserve to—I deserve to—I don't…" Yuri whispered. Victor stiffened.

"You can't believe that." Victor stated sharply, sounding almost angry. Yuri whipped his attention back to his coach, suddenly brought back to the present.

"Sorry?"

"There's no way that you can _honestly_ believe that you don't deserve to be on this Earth. There is no way you could _possibly_ think that your life is so meaningless that you can just— just _die_ , and leave no trace behind." Victor gripped Yuri's arms, giving the boy a firm shake that was borderline painful and rattled Yuri to the bone. "Think about what you're saying! You're saying that you think _no one_ will miss you when you're gone, that _no one_ will be affected by your _death_." Victor bit out, practically hissing the last word as if it were a deadly curse or agonizing poison.

"But nothing _would_ happen!" Yuri shouted back, having recovered from the initial shock of being jerked back and forth. He violently wrenched himself out of his coach's grasp, stumbling backwards in his haste. "Everyone's lives would be the same as they were before me leaving!" As if the sun would get a notice in its email inbox saying that Katsuki Yuri died and it needed to snuff out its own light. As if Yuri's presence on the Earth kept everything in some sort of balance like pull of gravity and the spin of the world. As if everyone's happiness existed solely because Yuri did. It didn't. But it was still unsettling to realize that nothing would change. There wouldn't be a scar on the world, marking his death. There wouldn't be a gap where he used to stand, a silence where he used to speak. No one depended on him or relied on him or anything. No one would be affected.

"Maybe the world would keep going and be unaffected on a _large scale_ , but the people who know you would be distraught!" Victor countered viciously, as if trying to physically hit Yuri with his words. He couldn't believe how ridiculous, and oblivious, and _stupid_ his student was to believe that his death would mean nothing to anyone. "Your parents would be in pieces knowing that their only son had felt so lost and unwanted that he _killed himself_. And that cute girl that works at the skate rink? Her husband? The triplets? They care about you. You're that girl's best friend, those kids look up to you. You're the only representative of that town that competes worldwide! That means something to the people here! They're proud of it and they're proud of _you_!" Victor was practically yelling right in Yuri's face at this point, reestablishing a firm hold on his student's shoulders. "Your sister would lose her little brother. The one person in the world she's supposed to protect. How do you think she would feel if she found you dead? Worse yet, having killed yourself?" Yuri bit his lip, staring at the ground. "What about that kid Minami, who is kind of obsessed with you? Or Christopher, or Phichit—aren't you close to those guys?" Victor added almost hysterically. Yuri yanked himself back out of Victor's grasp sharply.

"They'll move on. They'll forget I even existed. I barely exist as it is, do you see what I'm doing with my life? I'm an ice-skater, big whoop. I'm not even good, like you or Yurio! Or expressive like Phichit or confident like J.J. And outside of skating, I'm even _less_." Yuri broke off, dragging a shaking hand down his weary face. Before gesturing wildly. "People are out curing cancer, running into burning buildings to save people, and making amazing things with their hands and I'm just a dime-a-dozen ice-skater with no future, no talent, no—" Victor cut off Yuri's self-deprecating speech by slapping his hand over the other's mouth. "MMPH!" Yuri protested, fingers beginning to claw at his coach's hand. Victor's other hand was a bruising grip on Yuri's hip that effectively held him in place.

"Don't _say_ that about yourself!" Victor's voice was an angry, thunderous, exasperated shout that seemed offended at Yuri's own hateful words against himself. "You. Are. _Not_. An average skater with mediocre talent. You are _not_ someone who can be overlooked. You are _not_ leading a meaningless, futureless life, Yuri! Why can't you see that? You're special, the way you skate is unreal, it's something that no one has ever seen before! You captivate people, you draw them in. You're a living, breathing, moving art, Yuri." Victor's voice became gentler and more dulcet toned as Yuri's eyes began to glisten in the sunlight that beamed in through the cracked window. "And it would be a shame to see such an art be destroyed." Yuri stared up at Victor in an awed silence. Victor blushed at his forceful tone and the fact that he was man handling his closest friend. "Sorry." Victor released his tight grip on Yuri and stared at the floor with hunched shoulders. Yuri shook his head, grasping Victor's hands.

"You haven't hurt me." Yuri told him earnestly, staring down out their hands, which were intertwining as they spoke. Victor's demeanor relaxed, the stiffness that rattled up his spin eased and the tenseness in his eyes melted away as he smiled down on Yuri's head. He dropped his face into the nest of satin, dark hair and Yuri giggled with childish delight at the tickling sensation that came from it.

"I'm glad." Victor whispered against Yuri's head. Yuri felt his coach's voice rumble pleasantly against his cheek, which had pressed itself against Victor's chest. They sat like that for a few blissful moments, the sunshine radiating a comforting heat that mingled with their own warmth they shared between them.

"We-we should probably go downstairs." Yuri mumbled. Victor sighed, realizing that Yuri was right. They certainly didn't want a search party being sent into their room, which would completely ruin the soothing atmosphere.

"Fine…" Victor said dejectedly. They stood in silence for another minute before Yuri finally raised his head and shuffled sleepily towards the door, dragging Victor by the hand. They shut the door lightly behind them, leaving the peaceful room where they longed to relax. Victor allowed himself to be dragged by Yuri, who made their way through the narrow hallways, his bare feet silent on the dark wooden floors.

"Good morning, boys!" Yuri's overly cheerful mother exclaimed, joy radiating from her smiling face. Yuri returned with soft "morning," albeit drowsily, while Victor exchanged greetings with enthusiasm, practically sparkling with excitement. The two sat next to each other on the floor, legs folding neatly under themselves, though Yuri struggled to seat himself comfortably. Victor inched closer to Yuri, which effectively halted Yuri's fidgeting. Yuri leaned closer to Victor so that their arms were touching from shoulder to wrist, reveling in the other's warmth and soothing presence. If she noticed, Yuri's mother made no move to separate the two or demand that they sit properly at the table as she bustled around laying colourful plates full of warm, delicious smelling food on the table.

"Did you both sleep well?" Yuri's mother asked, looking honestly concerned. Suddenly panicked, wondering if Yuri's mom had heard any of their conversations from the night before, Victor plastered on a false grin.

"Of course, and yourself?"

"I slept fine, thank you. I was wondering, though, did you two hear anything strange last night?" Yuri's mother asked curiously, placing dishes between them. Victor and Yuri caught each other's eye, but quickly parted glances.

"No, I don't believe so…" Victor placed a finger on his chin in false pensiveness. Yuri, on the other hand, looked down at his lap guiltily, avoiding his mother's curious stare.

"It was like someone was crying I think. Sounded so sad, so heartbroken. I almost got up to see what it was, but it stopped suddenly and didn't start back up, so I left it alone." Yuri placed an elbow on the table and turned his head towards Victor, his hand blocking his face from his mother's view. He gave Victor a look of horror and Victor made a quick shrugging gesture as he threw his arms around, showcasing his confusion and internal panic behind Yuri's mother's back.

"It could have been the wind, or maybe an animal." Yuri piped up, voice shaking slightly with nerves.

"Oh, I hope it wasn't an animal! I would feel horrible if I knew that a poor little animal was being hurt and was crying in pain!" As expected, Yuri's mother was horrified at the idea that there might have been someone or something in pain. Her hands went up to cover her mouth in alarm. Victor turned sideways, blocking himself from her line of vision again and made a slicing motion about his neck, face terse as he attempted to warn Yuri against any and all speaking for a moment. Yuri waved his arms around in frantic apology before stuffing his hands under his legs.

"I'm sure it was the wind, it was quite loud last night. Kept me up for a short while." Victor lied smoothly, taking a slow sip from his colourful mug as he gave Yuri a meaningful look over the rim.

"O-oh, yes, I didn't get a wink last night because of it!" Yuri exclaimed rather cheerfully. Victor hid his amused grin behind his mug, reminding himself to never depend on Yuri when it came to little white lies or hiding things.

"You poor dears, you must be exhausted." Yuri's mother exclaimed sympathetically. She patted both boys on the back gently.

"Not at all, we got plenty of rest!" Victor exclaimed cheerily.

"Not tired enough to skip skating!" Yuri piped up at the same time. Victor grinned at his enthusiasm. His grin slowly grew to be more of an animalist grin and Yuri eyed him suspiciously. "Victor?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, dearest student?" Victor fluttered his lashes innocently, making Yuri chuckle. Before Yuri could say anything more, Victor leapt up. "Race you to the rink!" He shouted, words running together. He made a mad dash towards the entrance of the hot springs house, stuffing his feet into his shoes. Yuri was close behind him, slipping across the floor and landing on his bottom by the shelves of shoes lined up by the door. He yanked his sneakers on just as Victor was tugging the door open, his heart racing, burning adrenaline coursing through his veins like liquid fire. Yuri flew through the doorway, slamming the door behind him. He caught up to Victor almost too easily, which lead him to wonder if his coach had purposefully slowed his pace to let Yuri catch up.

Racing through the beautiful city was the best part of mornings, according to Victor. He loved the way the sunlight shone a golden glow on everything, making even buildings and cars shine brilliantly and beautifully as if they were just as much a part of nature as the glimmering tree leaves or long, dancing grasses. The sky was a blended mix of pastels and the rich fields were sparkling with fresh dew. The soft chirps and songs from birds mixed with the whistling wind and hushed whispers from streams rushing over rocks and tree leaves dancing in the wind.

And Yuri was there.

Yuri shone even brighter than all the buildings, and all the flowers, and all the dew in the world. His eyes were alight with the fire of competition that ignited immediately after Victor suggested that the two race to the rink. Yuri had a competitive, stubborn spirit, but it hardly ever showed itself. It was masked by self-doubt, anxiety and a rather strong inferiority complex. But when the glimmer of stubbornness, that flame of determination, that spark of I-will-beat-you-at-your-own-game lit up in Yuri's eyes…

Victor was breathless.

He struggled to focus on the race, his thoughts and gaze constantly being drawn to the oblivious bright brown eyes which were focused so intently on the path they hurtled down, that it was almost comical. When they came to the tall flight of stairs, however, Yuri's determination started cracking.

"Oh—my—God—I'm dying. That's it—I'm dead—I'm dying—I'm dead—" Yuri gasped out, legs becoming increasingly sluggish and heavy. Victor found himself ahead of Yuri, almost at the top of the staircase.

"Yuri—are you—okay?" Victor shouted behind him in between quick shallow breaths.

"No—didn't you—hear me? I'm—dead." Yuri was hardly even jogging now. Victor laughed at the distressed look on Yuri's face when he looked up to see Victor far ahead of him. "Are—you—kidding me?" Yuri's voice pitched upwards. Victor burst into loud laughter that warmed him from his feet to his head, making his heart glow. Unable to move, breath and laugh at the same time, Victor found himself sinking onto the cold cement, leaning backwards with one hand covering his face, the other gripping the life out of the rail attached to the never ending staircase.

"Stop—laughing—you— _jerk_!" Yuri shouted. Yuri's irritation must have helped him suddenly find his fire again because he began sprinting up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Victor, unable to recover from his laughing fit, continued to giggle as Yuri bounded literally right over him and reached the top of the staircase with a shout of triumph. He threw his fist in the air and Victor clapped, whistling loudly while Yuri bowed and plopped on the ground with a thud.

"I—won!" Yuri pointed at Victor and shouted needlessly. He dropped onto his back and Victor scuttled up the rest of the stairs in an awkward crab walk, finally depositing himself beside Yuri.

"Congratulations." Victor muttered, his eyes closed against the bright sunrays. He heard Yuri sigh contentedly and the two shared a silent moment of peace.

"Let's go skating!" Yuri exclaimed, reenergized as another sudden rush of energy flowing through his veins like a rushing stream. He grabbed Victor's hand and began pulling his lethargic coach up by the arm. Victor groaned, attempting to push Yuri away, but was jolted upwards by his arm and was forced into consciousness. Victor allowed himself to be dragged inside the building and pushed onto their bench.

The feel of the cool air radiating from the rink, the smell of leather skates, the stillness and beauty of the ice was all captivating. Victor found himself at home in any ice rink. It didn't matter where he was, or who he was with. If he had an ice rink, all was right with the world and Victor Nikiforov was home. Yuri and ice, actually. That was home There was a special relationship between Yuri and ice. They complimented each other. Helped each other. On ice, Yuri danced. He sailed. He _flew_. With poise, and grace, and of course the occasional endearing mistake. His eyes were so full of raw, real emotion that the gleamed, they shone, they sparkled. It was distracting, it was intoxicating, it was something Victor had never seen before. That spell occasionally shatters when Yuri slips and falls to a dramatic thud on his rear, or if he misses the quadruple but lands the double, a shadow of disappointment flickering across his face. At moments like these, Victor wanted to run out onto the ice and praise the self-deprecating skater that never had enough self-confidence to even dream that he was good enough.

The anticipation brought on by the sights, the smells, the sounds of the ice rink almost had Victor giggling with giddy anticipation. He forced his laughter down his throat and focused on Yuri, who was currently tugging Victor behind him like a puppy pulling its owner by the leash connected to it.

"Excited to skate?" Victor asked, amused. Yuri glanced over his shoulder with a wide grin.

"Absolutely, it feels like ages since I've been on the ice!"

"It's been two days." Victor corrected. Yuri looked surprised.

"Th-that's all? It— it feels like it's been ages…"

"I supposed…" Victor grimaced. "I suppose compared to what you've been through during the past 24 hours, it would seem like a life time." Victor squeezed Yuri's hand when the younger boy looked ready to hurl.

"I... I didn't go through… I mean it wasn't like I had no say…" Yuri trailed off, biting his lip. He's been doing that more often, Victor noticed. He gripped Yuri's chin with a free hand, using his thumb to ease the boy's poor lip out from the worrying tooth's grasp.

"We will go over this until you understand. You may have done something to yourself, but never believe for a second that this is completely, 100% your own fault. To stop something like that, you need support. Which I didn't give you. I'm your coach, it's my job… I'm your coach, I'm supposed to…." Victor took in a heaving gust of air and instantly relaxed the moment Yuri's free hand came to rest on his shoulder. "It's my job to support you and make you feel as if you can do anything." Yuri opened his mouth to say something but Victor interrupted sharply, looking fierce and almost angry. "And it's your job as the student to tell me what's troubling you so we can work it out!" Yuri flinched back from the accusatory tone.

"Okay, okay, so you may have a point—" Yuri acknowledged before he was interrupted.

"May?" Victor drawled, a fair eyebrow raised to the ceiling.

"Alright! I just… I guess I just didn't realize… it was a… problem." Yuri's voice slowly lost its confidence as he eyed an increasingly distressed Victor.

"You hurting yourself is _always_ considered a problem." Victor stated as if it were obvious. "But it's okay, because I've got you now. I'm here to work you through it!" Victor announced with a grin. Yuri smiled warmly, amused by his coach's confident, almost cocky, yet somehow loveable behavior.

"I know I'm in good hands." Yuri responded honestly.

"Okay, we've done enough of that for now. What we both need is a little bit of skating." He bent down to help Yuri into his shoes and began tying the laces as Yuri looked on. "Now, get out there and show me that you remember your routine, and watch that quadruple there, you slip when you're distracted. Just stay focused, but most of all—" Victor leaned so close that his forehead was brushing Yuri's. He forced down a grin at Yuri's suddenly wide eyes. "Eyes. Use them." Yuri's shocked eyes became lidded as his thin lips curled took on a sultry smile.

"Yes, coach." He whispered, booping his nose against Victor's before spinning and dancing in circles away from Victor who settled himself against the rink's walls, prepared to watch his young charge. Yuri always fit right in time with his music, as if the tune was created just for him. But without music… no, there was always music when Yuri skated. Yuri created the music. Sassy winks and suggestive smirks were feisty, playful trills and rifts that jolted Victor's heart. Scrapes of the skates on the ice were the swinging jazz beats that made Victor want to join in. The hip swivels and delicate arm movements were graceful high notes that sent chills down Victor's back. Again, Yuri missed the quadruple but he made it a successful triple, which showed progress. And then Yuri hit that final pose with a simper that made Victor's nerves sizzle. Victor clapped strongly and whistling highly in appreciation. And like that, Yuri was suddenly the awkward, innocent student as he skated over to Victor with a bashful grin on his face.

"I think yesterday was an important development." Yuri stated matter of factly. Victor grinned at his sudden boldness. "I think it helped, actually. You helped. With my skating… I felt different. I felt— I felt free." Yuri was heaving with labored breaths, but his eyes sparkled with life, much different than they had been recently, and his cheeks glowed with more colour than they had in weeks. How had Victor not noticed how pale, and ill, and straight up dead Yuri had been looking lately. It's not natural for someone to be so pale and exhausted looking, even with the lighter Asian skin tones and weariness from late night practices.

"Victor?" Victor snapped to attention at the sweet tones of a familiar voice. Yuri must have noticed Victor's momentary leave of focus because the younger boy was currently leaning against the rink's walls, eyeing Victor closely with curious, watchful eyes.

"Yes, dearest student?" Victor fluttered his lashes, making Yuri blush and laugh with embarrassment.

"You just looked a little… lost there for a second." Yuri whispered mildly. Victor grinned, reaching out to pat Yuri's head with an affectionate, slim hand. Yuri ducked out of the way and reached up with surprising speed and grabbed Victor's hand like a viper stealing prey away. He then used the offending hand to pull himself close enough to Victor that he could see the smile lines— frown lines— stress lines—around Victor's bright eyes and pink lips.

"Calm down, I'm fine." Victor scoffed, attempting to pull back. The grip on his hand moved to the back of his head where nimble fingers snagged silvery white locks. His head was yanked back into position in front of Yuri. "Ow, what—" Victor began, but was cut off Victor's momentary leave of focus.

"What's wrong with you today? You seem off." Yuri announced with surprising assertiveness.

"I— wha—no, I'm good, I'm good, I'm great." Victor stuttered, still feeling oddly disconnected and unsure, which was irritating beyond belief. He had felt so out of control, so confused, so discombobulated.

"You're acting… strange." Yuri pointed out cautiously, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"I'm not acting strange, you're just reading too far into things," Victor muttered, feeling suddenly irritated. He dragged a hand down the side of his face, exhaustion joining the mess of emotions that Victor attempted to sift through.

"No, I don't think so. There's something wrong with you." Yuri retorted, voice a little stronger and a bit louder. Victor glared at him, wrenching himself free of his friend's grasp.

"You're looking too far into things. Nothing's wrong." Victor's voice held a tone of finality, but Yuri overlooked it.

"Hey, get back here—" Yuri reached out, grabbing Victor by the front of the shirt, only to be snapped at.

"Lay _off_ Yuri!" Victor's voice boomed and echoed in the otherwise silent, empty building. "There's nothing wrong, mind your own business!"

"I could say the same about you!" Yuri shouted back, sounding rightfully offended. He shoved Victor away, subsequently sending himself skating backwards with the force of his pushing Victor.

"And just what do you mean by that?" Victor sneered, his normally handsome face contorted into something akin to animalistic rage. Yuri scoffed and turned his back to Victor, seeming disgusted.

"I don't know, how you barged in my home—"

"—Your home is a hot springs, which is technically a public place—"

"—and broke down my bathroom door—"

"—I don't remember doing that—"

"— and start yelling at me and stopping me from doing things I do in the privacy of—"

"— _privacy_ —" Victor turned in a circle, a hand clenching his cocked hip and another clutching at his hair. "You were _cutting_ yourself." Victor stated darkly. Yuri flinched. "Oh, you don't like that word?" He asked condescendingly, tauntingly, his voice sickeningly sweet. "How about a nicer term, maybe… self-harming?" another flinch. "Or maybe we'll call it what it is— mutilation?" flinch. "No? What about Torture?" flinch. "Or—"

"Alright, I get it! I owe you my life and I should to be grateful that you barged in, broke my door— which you remember doing, don't you deny it— so that you can mock me and ridicule me and be a general a—" Yuri was cut off when a certain Russian skating coach barreled into him and clutched him close, attempting to keep as much of their bodies touching as possible. Yuri stood in silence for a moment, feeling very jolted, as if the world just fell of its axis. "Um, Victor?"

"Yes, Yuri?" the angry, accusatory tinged shout had become a gentle, soft croon usually reserved for handling injured animals and scared children.

"Weren't you just… ah, weren't you, uh, we were… we were arguing, right?"

"Yeah, let's not do that, anymore, hm?" Yuri was tempted to agree and just bask in the warm coziness of his coach's body, but the memory of the nature and content of the argument shattered the comfort Victor was radiating.

"No, Victor, really, I think—"

"Let's not argue. Let's just—"

"Victor. I'm scared." Yuri mustered the most innocent, vulnerable, young sounding voice that he could. It was, to his dismay, hardly the most difficult thing he'd ever done. He looked up at Victor and made himself seem as small as possible, hunching his shoulders and hugging himself. He even jutted out his bottom lip and let his eyes shine brightly with unshed tears. Yuri was well learned how to milk it with his coach. He'd never needed to use that trick much, but was glad he put in the time, attention and effort to learn how to do it and how it would affect Victor because it was paying off big time for Yuri at the moment.

"Scared? Scared of what? What are you scared of? I've got you, don't worry." Victor whispered soothingly, gently petting Yuri's head.

"I'm scared that you're sick."

"Sick?" Victor seemed a little confused.

"Sick, like me." Yuri whispered self-consciously. The strong arms around him tightened.

"Yuri, you aren't sick. You're just… you're just struggling. It doesn't make you sick, or crazy, or weird. It makes you human. A lot of people go through this sort of thing, you know." Victor slyly avoided the real issue at hand.

"Victor, please." Yuri begged, making sure to force his voice to tremble slightly. "Please. What's wrong?" Victor sighed, dropping his head onto Yuri's shoulder.

"I'm tired. I'm worried. I'm stressed. I'm irritated. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just feel like any moment…" Victor stopped, his head jerking back to stare at Yuri as if watching for a reaction.

"Like any moment… I'll do it again?" Yuri finished for him understandingly. Victor bit his lip, looking uncharacteristically confused and nervous.

"I don't think you're crazy or anything, I just think that…. I read up on it— your condition," Yuri had to grin at that. So like Victor to be brash and bold, only to become shy when the second someone found out that he might have an honestly sensitive and kind bone in his body. "I read that after someone finds out about what you're— er, _doing_ … that you might, I don't know, do it again, I guess. It's like you could panic. You're on edge because you're worried about what people might think about you, what they might do to you, or say, and the more stressed you are, the higher the likelihood that you… do it again. And the more anxious and upset you are, the more likely you could go too deep on accident. Or purpose." Victor explained awkwardly, obviously attempting to tread lightly so as to not offend his young student.

"I see." Yuri fell silent for a moment, looking as if he were weighing a heavy decision. "I promise to come to you if there's anything… bothering me. I'll do my best to stop. My best. I promise." Yuri sounded like it physically pained him to make such a promise. That only made Victor prouder.

"Thank you. Thank you." Victor sounded like he was sending up a prayer to a higher power, instead of a word of gratitude to a friend.

"You know, I read up on my—er, _condition_ , too." Yuri stated mater of factly, still hugging, or rather being hugged, by Victor.

"Oh? And what did you find out?" Victor asked curiously, wondering where this conversation was going to, and only hoping it wasn't somehow going down the twisting road of "let's break up." Not that they were together or anything.

"I found out that you can catch—well you can't exactly "catch" er—depression, if that's what this is— by literal means, but this one site I found said that you can be influenced by a depressed person. It's like your thoughts and actions start to mimic your depressed friend's thoughts and actions. That sort of thing. I think it's like sympathy pain, you know when someone gets punched in the face, you rub your face." Victor squinted down at Yuri.

"You mean…?"

"I mean, I think my… _thing_ has been affecting you."

"You think you're making me depressed." Victor clarified, voice rather void of emotion. Yuri wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Well, yes." In response of Victor's suddenly sky-high eyebrows, Yuri rushed to correct himself. "I mean, I don't think you're depressed, just that… well… we both know how well you can read a room of people and their individual emotions. And I know you're reading my emotions and actions and you're trying to find a way to reach me, respond to me. I just think that you're trying to put yourself in my shoes, but you're trying so hard, it's starting to affect you and make you feel the same way as I do. I think. Maybe"

"You think I'm, forcing myself into your shoes."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"It sounds believable, but I really don't think that I have that. Sympathy depression or whatever it is. I only just realized you're… well, depressed yesterday."

"That doesn't mean that you haven't subconsciously picked up on my emotions."

"That's… oddly intuitive of you."

"Why, thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"We're a mess." Yuri laughed shakily. Victor nodded grimly. "You know, I always thought you were put together. Confident, bold and ready for anything. You had everything under control."

"Why in the world would you think that?" Victor asked incredulously. Yuri huffed at Victor's obvious surprise.

"Well, to start with, you're successful. In everything. Skating, coaching, maintaining relationships, _creating_ relationships, talking to people—you hold yourself very proudly too, you know. You stand up straight with a fierce look in your eye like there's no way anything can do anything to hurt you or tear you down." Yuri shrugged. "That's confidence to me."

"Confidence is talking to people, standing up straight and skating well?" Victor raised an eyebrow with inquisition.

"I guess so. Those are the major differences between us. Well besides our families, birth countries, native language, culture and eating habits." Yuri shrugged noncommittedly.

"To tell you the truth," Victor laughed softly. "To tell you the truth, I never feel in control. I rarely have to "together," as you put it, either." Yuri squinted disbelievingly at this.

"You? Not having it together? In what universe?!" He exclaimed, disbelief ringing clearly in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Victor leaned back from the close vicinity of their hug.

"I've just… I've just never seen you lose it. I've never seen you looking anything other than confident, yet you've seen me in various stages of panic, and distress and I guess it's just intimidating because I've never seen you like that." Yuri admitted, almost nonchalantly as if this should have been obvious to the surprisingly oblivious Victor.

"Well just know that while it may seem like I'm under control on the outside, I'm probably dying in effort to keep it together on the inside." Victor answered bashfully.

"No way." Yuri denied skeptically. Victor nodded, looking almost ashamed.

"I wouldn't go as far as saying I have problems like anxiety or whatever it's called, but I'd definitely say it's a struggle."

"A struggle?" Yuri was still not convinced, clearly wanting to know more.

"You depend on me. Consequently, your family depends on me. My old coach depends on me, more so when I was his student. The fans depend on me. Russia depends on me. It gets to be a little too much sometimes." Victor shrugged nonchalantly. "It's no big deal. I just built up my self-control, I learned how to focus my stress or whatever it is that I'm feeling and put it into something else." Yuri looked at Victor as if he were insane.

"Like with you, Yuri," Victor felt the need to give him an example, but Yuri flinched when he heard his own name. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad. I just feel like you rely on me to get you to the top of the pyramid of best skaters. It's my job as a coach to do that, but sometimes it can be overwhelming. Imagine someone standing in front you, begging you to help them carry on a dream that they feel is slowly dying. A dream that they feel they can never have. A dream that they believe you are the only one able to help them achieve. It's stressful, Yuri, it's stressful... stressful…" There was a moment of silence where Victor stared off into the distance, an aching, painful expression painted across his features. Yuri watched him closely, his heart beat racing.

"Victor, skate with me." Yuri demanded. Victor snapped his head around to face Yuri.

"What?" he asked, momentarily jolted by the sudden request (or was it a demand?).

"Skate with me." Yuri answered simply, reaching out his hands to clasp Victor's. Victor allowed himself to be dragged onto the ice and there they spent the next few hours working together in harmony, sweat sheens across their faces, smiles shared between them and energy bursting as they glided like dancers across a stage.

A few hours later a janitor in his old navy jumper hopped up the steps that lead up to the skate house, bopping around to the beat of the music playing loudly through his earbuds. He burst through the double doors of the building, and hardly paid any mind to the gasping couple who he always found lying on their backs, side-by-side on the ice whenever he came into work. He grinned as he headed towards his supply closet with a cheerful whistled tune, ready to face the day.

After such a brilliant day, it was hard to imagine the horror story that Yuri walked in on after his shower. When Yuri and Victor had returned to the hot springs, each deciding to shower off the sweat and grime of their skating and racing before seeing to lunch. Upon entering the bathroom, Yuri dropped his clean clothes in a neat pile on the lid of the toilet and stepped back to strip his sweaty jogging pants and sticky black t-shirt off. He had just thrown the dirty pile of clothes into the white plastic bin by the door when he realized that this was the very same bathroom that he had been discovered by his coach in. He blankly eyed the pink stain on the edge of the fluffy white mat that sat in front of the shower. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel right now. Over the past two days he had faced the broadest variety of emotions and experience imaginable. He had been through the worst cutting session and the absolute despair and loneliness that went with it, he had been discovered and promised support and eventual healing, he had fought with his coach and felt oddly lost and betrayed, he had slept with his coach— Yuri blushed so hotly he thought he was going to burst into flames. Dear, Lord.

Yuri shook his head and busied himself by fiddling with the knobs on the shower and stepped in. He felt relaxed and calm for the first time in a while, standing under the warm gentle spray of water from the shower head. He'd been using the showers in place of public baths for a long time. Ever since his… _thing_. He realized very quickly that it's kind of hard to hide scars when you don't have anything to hide them under.

After his long, mostly-relaxing shower, Yuri took his sweet time to wriggle into clothes that stuck to the dampness of his skin annoyingly. He grumbled in irritation at his dark blue t-shirt, finally giving up on straightening his clothes and dropped his wet towel in the bin of towels by the door. He padded down the hall that reached to the kitchen, wondering why it was so silent all of the sudden. His mother must have gone out to the store or something. Otherwise, she would be running around the house making food, cleaning, greeting people and starting up conversations with guests. He stretched his arms up into the air as far as he could as he entered the kitchen, walking straight up to the fridge. He paused halfway, noticing that his entire family was seated at the table with a few cups of tea and big tea pot between them. Victor was standing in front of the table, looking rather shell-shocked.

"I'm so sorry, Yuri! I didn't mean to, I really didn't! It was an accident, I swea—"

"Victor, what in the world are you talking about?" Yuri demanded, a bit shaken at seeing his coach look so frightened and unsure. "Are you okay?"

"Victor, honey, why don't you give us a second?" Yuri's mother asked kindly, her voice a tad sharper than usual. Victor shook his head.

"I can't. Please, don't make me go—" Victor looked so desperate. He was acting as if he was being sent away forever or something when he was just being asked to go to another room. Feeling oddly disturbed, Yuri butted in anxiously.

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Yuri asked, but his voice was covered by his family arguing.

"Victor, please—" Yuri's mother was interrupted by his father's deep voice.

"If he wants to stay, it's fine. We can do this either way."

"Do what?" Yuri asked. He was unheard as his sister spoke up.

"This is a family matter, Victor belongs here. He's family!" she exclaimed. Yuri's mother spoke up.

"Hello? I'm still here— is anyone even listening?" Yuri demanded, flinging his arms around to try to get someone's attention. His efforts failed.

"Mari, please." His mother pleaded. "Victor really—" she attempted to soothe things and get Victor out of the kitchen at the same time while Mari stood up, her chair banging to the floor.

"Victor is a part of this family— aren't you, Victor?" Mari turned to Victor, her hands on her hips.

"Mari, you know what I mean. Victor is a dear friend, but—"

"I have a tattoo of a naked lady on my bum." Yuri announced, glancing between the faces of his family members, attempting to find some sign that they had.

"But what? He's not family? He's a friend, just not close enough to be a family member?" Mari hissed at her mother, glaring at the woman she was usually kind to— who was always kind to her.

"I roll weed on the weekends in the kitchen and sell them to my druggie friends who vandalize libraries and terrorize children." Victor blinked, staring at Yuri as if he were insane, but looked away just as quickly, as if he thought he had simply misheard his friend.

"This is a family matter, it does not affect—"

"If you say that it won't affect Victor at all, then you're even more of an evil witch than I thought you were." Mari spat venomously at her mother. The woman gasped, obviously offended, but Mari crossed her arms stubbornly. "Mari, I'm trying to do what I think it right for the family and for Yuri!"

"I have impregnated six women—" Victor's confused stare intensified, as if he knew what he had heard this time. Yuri shrugged and went back to attempting to shock his family back into remembering his existence.

"Mari, please. I just— this is going to be hard enough to deal with as a family, bringing in other people will make it even harder!" Yuri's mother exclaimed her face pink, eyes shining as if she were about to cry.

"— three of which are nuns—" Yuri added.

"So, the solution is to hide Yuri's problems from his friends?" Mari gesticulated so violently that she smacked Victor in the face. Yuri hadn't thought of it that way.

"— and the one is in prison." He piped up perkily, gaining an almost grin from Victor.

"We need to get a handle on this before we let the public know—" Their mother attempted to explain in a patient voice.

"I pee hot pink— no wait that actually happened once. Awful beet soup." Victor actually chuckled softly this time, encouraging Yuri to keep going.

"The _public_? We most certainly are not splashing our personal lives across the co vers of newspapers or selling the information to tv news channels. We're talking about his _friends_ —" Mari looked scandalized and disturbed. Their mother shook her head and scoffed.

"Ah, let's see… I'm running out of things to say."

"Who will tell their family, who will tell their friends, who will tell their families— these kinds of things travel fast." Their mother had a good point, Yuri had to admit.

"Llamas eat sexy paperclips in Bangkok at noon, but only on Wednesdays because the tigers eat them on Thursdays." He stated matter of factly. Victor barked out a sharp laugh and brought his hand up to cover his mouth, his shoulders convulsing like a seizure when he received odd looks from Yuri's parents.

"We can't just block out his friends like that!" Mari slapped her hands on the table, making the china rattle and burning dark tea spill out of the teacups. The thud of her palms against the table made Yuri start.

"I'm really running out of content, people, can we hurry this along."

"We have to protect him—" While his mother and sister continued to argue about whether or not Victor should be here for the "conversation" which had quickly become a debate of who should know about Yuri's "problem" which later became a fight about what they should actually do about Yuri's "problem," all done without the input of Yuri himself, Yuri slowly began to understand what was going on. His worst fears were confused when is father turned to him with a grave expression and asked a single question. The worst question.

"Why are you cutting yourself Yuri?"

It was silent for the first time in the Katsuki household.

 **AN:**

 **Yeah so, I can't write endings, you should know this by now. I did have fun with Yuri and his interjections but I think I may have had a bit too much fun…. Oops. Also, one second Yuri and Victor are arguing and out of the blue they stop. Like what even. They're just really good friends and are really in tune with each other and would rather talk than fight. Yep. That's what I'm going with.**

 **S** **tay tuned and keep sending ideas! I got loads of amazing ones from** **Shiranai Atsune** **(you're my new favourite person, by the way), who has the most amazing and fantastical ideas and has even inspired some new stories that will at some point happen, fingers crossed! That being said I'm always open to new ideas!**


	4. Cliffs

**AN:**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri! On Ice.**

 **First half of my interpretation of a few ideas from** **Shiranai Atsune.** **This is for you, I hope it's what you were expecting!**

 **Also, I'm really sorry for what I've done with this chapter. Be warned.**

CH4- Cliffs

The sun was a soft golden glow against the blush and rose painted sky. Tiny specks of silver stars extinguished one by one and the moon slowly began to fade away, letting the sun take over the sky. The air smelled refreshed and clean, but humid and warm with recent rain. Dew sparkled across the colourful flowers growing in fields, and small puddles decorated the concrete sidewalks, shimmering and rippling when pedestrians or vehicles passed by.

Everything was peaceful and ordinary. The little girl in a pink stripped jumper sold roses from a bundle in a wicker basket, a bright smile across her freckled face. A few elderly gentlemen sipping tea as they read through newspapers on benches under tall trees as joggers with slicked back hair and tight jogging suits sped past. Workers began their early commute, coffee in one hand and the wheel of their car in the other. Ordinary and peaceful. Just another day.

Just another typical day for everyone except one Katsuki Yuri whose life seemed to be fracturing by the second and constantly falling apart piece by piece, crumbling to ashes every day.

Yuri stamped violently into a particularly large puddle, relishing in both the harsh splashing sound and the frigid liquid that seeped through his black jogging pants, stinging his already cold skin. He imagined that his pounding feet were not just slamming into the cold puddles and on cracked sidewalks that wound through the bustling cities of his cheerful Japanese hometown. Instead, he was demolishing words— those painful words that pricked him and burned him to the core. He was crushing the life out of the huge feelings and overpowering thoughts that made him feel so small and wounded that it was as if he hardly existed. He remembered every moment that had happened in the past few months. He recorded every second of fear, or anger, or distraught loss and pain. When Yuri ran, he built his anger up to release that pain, and then he destroyed it. He built his anger like it was a huge, majestic sand castle at the lip of a frothy white shore. Tiny seeds of loss and sandy bits of anger packed together by the chilling waters of the endless ocean made a towering, angry beast of a castle. But, in the end, sand castles melt under the weight of the crashing waves.

Yuri jerked to a halt suddenly, earning confused looks and irritated scoffs by those trying to make their way around him. Yuri paid them no mind. His legs shook with the effort to hold him upright, the adrenaline coursing through his veins slowed, his ragged heartbeat came to a steadier pulse and just like that— all was well. The coursing winds froze, the near violent, raging anger faded, the out-of-control, isolated spell was over. The castle was melted. That was the power of a good, hard run at four in the morning.

Yuri began the light jog home, his pace much more even and instead of smashing words and thoughts into the concrete. He needed to calm his rumpled, distressed exterior before returning home, lest he wanted to be attacked by his family who would demand to know what he did.

What he did.

Not what happened to him.

Not where he was.

What he did.

Yuri shook himself, refocusing on the happier thoughts to get himself back into a presentable mood for his parents. If they saw him all pouty and brooding, they would panic. He began imagining things he saw daily. Soothing images of the people he passed on his runs played through his head, mind tingling pictures of fruit trees with bursting colour zoomed just under his eyelids and lastly, the sleepy hot springs began to wake up in the back of his mind. He focused in on the hot springs, his home. He imagined walking into the familiar, comforting front room and hearing sizzling bacon popping in a pan, the smell of warm fluffy eggs dancing through the air. He would kick off his shoes and push them neatly against the wall, following his tingling senses through the house. He imagined seeing his mother flitting about the kitchen cooking this and mixing that as she created a big, delicious meal for her family. He imagined seeing his dad sitting at the table, already sipping from a large, clunky mug as he chattered on about the weather and what he was planning to do that day. He imagined both his parents turning their faces to him and smiling as if he were the sun and the moon to them. Mari would lazily shuffle in and shoot a snarky comment to her brother, ruffling his hair roughly to tell him that she was just joking. He imagined Victor—

He stopped abruptly. He couldn't breathe. Reaching out sluggishly, Yuri gripped the rusty metal rail that stretched across the top of the concrete guardrail that separated the cars zooming across the overpass from the traffic below. Bowing his head, Yuri stared down at his free hand, which balled tensely into a fist. He took a deep, shuddering breath and counted the seconds before letting it out. Slowly, he relaxed his strangling grip on the rail and unclenched his reddening fist. Standing upright again, Yuri turned around, as if he had planned to, and began running in the opposite direction of the hot springs that loomed ahead among the trees. He didn't want to go home. He wanted to be anywhere but home. Home wasn't family breakfasts, and smiling mothers, and chatty fathers. Home was war.

Tensions had been running high in the Katsuki household ever since Victor let it slip about Yuri's little… _issue_. Yuri's parents were very conflicted with how to react to their son's problem.

One way Yuri's parents acted was unnerving and left Yuri feeling out of place and extremely uncomfortable. Yuri's parents would sometimes act as if he was an infant and had ridiculous rules and restrictions. They were constantly watching Yuri's every movement as if they were cops watching a suspect to a murder case. They even stood outside the bathroom, listening to him in case he punched a mirror and used the glass to hurt himself or something. They also baby-proofed their home— Yuri's father put rubber bits on sharp corners of chairs, and counters, and fireplaces and his mother changed the curtain rods above the windows because the current ones had fancy points at the ends that could somehow be used to awkwardly mangled oneself. Locks were taken off the doors— Yuri's _door_ was taken off, which was the most embarrassing thing that could possibly happen. No— the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen was when Yuri's parents took all the sharp things and locked them in their room: kitchen knives, knitting needles, nail clippers, even the chopsticks and forks. Mari had to go to her parents every morning to get her razor whenever she needed to shave her legs and both Yuri and Victor had to collect their ice skates from his parents because the blades of the shoes posed a "threat." Yuri's parents also practically— _literally_ — dragged Yuri into therapy to talk about his "issues" with an elderly gentleman who obviously thought that Yuri was a posing, overdramatic hypochondriac. Yuri found it funny how people seemed to think he had all these issues to deal with. He didn't. He had very few problems, and that was what unsettled him the most. That he felt so deeply alone and misplaced, yet he had nothing to point a finger at and call the cause of his depression— if that's what it was, he wasn't completely certain he had the big ugly beast called depression. He had no idea what was wrong with him.

The second disturbing behavior Yuri's parents displayed was quite painful to watch. He would find his parents to be besides themselves with grief, often found sitting together on the sofa, huddled with some object from Yuri's childhood in their hands. The objects ranged from his old baby clothes to teddy bears and other toys. If Yuri walked in, they would pretend not to see him and continued on crying, seeming to see right through him.

It was very disturbing.

At one point, Yuri had made the mistake of speaking up and asking what was wrong, finding himself suddenly too disturbed by his parents' odd but recurring behavior. That only got a long, drawn out wail from his mother and a glare from his father who demanded that he leave the room. Yuri knew his parents weren't truly angry with him when they acted in this way. Yuri understood that he had scared his parents awfully and that they were trying their hardest to cope. Despite his understanding and his best efforts to not take anything his grieving parents did or said too personally, Yuri's heart still felt heavy and cold. However, there was one special person who could warm him.

Mari. His older sister. She was his safe-haven.

After his "little secret" had come out and everything had gone crazy, Yuri would hide from the disappointed, terrified, sobbing faces of his mother and father by locking himself inside his bedroom (before the door was quite literally ripped off its hinges, that is). Every day, Mari would come and bang on the door, demanding that he brother open up. When he finally did, she would have an excuse to have come over. One time, she complained that his room stunk clear across the house and that he needed to clean it, which caused them to spend three hours together organizing and scrubbing every bit of the room. Another time she came looking for change to go down to the ice cream truck with, seeming to be not at all uncomfortable with the fact that her demand was absolutely childish. No self-respecting 30-year-old woman would ask her younger brother for money to get ice cream from a dinky little truck with. Good thing Mari left her self-respect behind when her brother's secret came out. Mari also invited her brother along and they walked through the streets together, laughing and catching their dripping ice cream cones with their mouths, but mostly with their faces. When they got home as the sunset burned a fiery red behind them, their faces and hands were as sticky as their treats and their smiles were just as sweet.

Eventually, Yuri would start seeking refuge in Mari's room, going to her before she could go to him. He found his sister to be a calming, warm presence that didn't try to force answers from him or seem to be waiting for him to crack. The pair of siblings would lounge across Mari's bed or they'd sprawl out on the floor, flipping through magazines of mostly male skaters, and fashion. Other times they'd listen to music on the highest volume, shouting the lyrics at the top of their lungs and doing silly dances. They'd watch scary movies and make fun of each other's scared shouts, or they'd laugh explosively through comedies, or make fun of cliché, sappy dramas. Sometimes, they would even lie on their backs and talk about everything from what makes the sky blue to how long it would take to swim to Spain. Whatever got Yuri's mind off of the challenges he was facing, the accusatory stares from his parents or whatever else was bothering him, Mari was up for it. They even went skating a few times, which turned out to be the funnest disaster in history. Mari was not the best skater, to say the least. That being said, she seemed to honestly enjoy learning from Yuri and watching him skate, and Yuri basked in the awe and compliments Mari expressed when watching his skating. The only problem was that they would run in to Victor every now and then, which made for a most awkward moment.

Yuri hated thinking about Victor. Seeing Victor, hearing his voice or talking about anything remotely related to Victor. This was because Yuri still felt confused and conflicted about his coach who pretty much betrayed Yuri. Victor finding out about Yuri's "little problem" was supposed to help Yuri. Victor was supposed to be lifting Yuri up from the fog of pain and loneliness, and guide him out of the forest of fear and failure. That's how things were, for a while. Things were good, things were okay. Until Victor spilled the beans. But, the worst part was that he didn't just spill the beans. No, he threw them. He set them on fire. He delivered them by hand to every person Yuri wanted to hide the secret from. Yuri wanted to hate his coach for it. He wanted to hate the charismatic, ingenious, heartfelt, honest, talented, loving, kicked-puppy-looking man he considered to be his idol. But he couldn't. You just can't hate a man like Victor. You try to be angry at someone like that, but it doesn't work. You try to despise someone like that, but you can't. You settle on being annoyed, irritated but deep down you feel something stronger. You settle on ignoring them because their very presence confuses the ever-loving ice skates out of you and what really kills you is that fact that— for some reason, even though you're technically the victim— you feel guilty as if _you're_ the villain.

Yuri just wanted to go back to before any of this happened. When things were much, _much_ simpler. Back before Victor told Yuri's secret, before Yuri was slicing up his own skin. Back to when things were okay. Back when things weren't complicated and difficult. Before things became so foggy and obscured that it seemed like no light in the world could possibly shine through an illuminate the right path. Back before Yuri started to solve his dark and twisty feelings by drawing and carving into his skin, leaving streams and trails of crimson behind. Before things had become even less okay as time went on, before he developed a strange, morbid addiction to the drawing and carving he used to do only on occasion.

For the longest time, Yuri had been able to hide this addiction from people behind a safe hidden door, but his safe hidden door was broken down and he was forced, head first, into a world of change. A world where his drawing and carving was wrong and hurtful, and a silver-haired skating coach was teaching Yuri how to stop. And then everything was okay again. Until it wasn't. And what happened to make things so not okay, you might ask?

Life happened. Life happened, and everything changed suddenly. It was more sudden than a car crash or a gunshot. More surprising than a hurricane or a slap to the face.

Yuri snapped back to reality and shook off his internal pity party. He hated this. When his mind was a confusing mush of scrambled thoughts that tangled like a web. Yuri took in a refreshingly cool burst of air and let out forcefully, as if expelling his dark thoughts with it. He glanced around the city he stood in the center of, feeling slightly lost. The speeding cars and buses whizzed past, jogging moms pushing strollers of babies, the tall buildings loomed over the world like a giant watching ants scuttling around.

An epiphany struck like a lightening bolt, illuminating and dramatic: Yuri _always_ ran here.

Always.

As in every day.

Every run.

Every time. He never "shook it up" or "tried something new." He always took the same path among the masses of voices and the tall buildings that touched the sky, not necessarily because he was told to, but because it had just never occurred to him to change his path. He could change his path, though. He could. There was no one here to stop him. No one to whisper in his ear and change his mind. And that just might be why he went another way this time. It just might be why when Yuri saw a small clearing in the tall grasses and trees on the edge of the road that he hadn't seen before, he took it. He took the path less traveled by.

It was made of dirt, it was surrounded and partially obscured by tall grasses and towering trees, and it was _amazing_.

Yuri noticed the difference between running on concrete and running on dirt very quickly, and he was almost 100% positive that he preferred to run on dirt than on concrete. He also 100% sure that he was slowly developing a dust allergy. His clogged sinuses were screaming. Despite his troubles with breathing while running on a dusty trail, he found the new path to have many positive features. For example, it was much softer and smelled sweeter than the hard, musty concrete he usually ran on. He felt as if he was floating, as if the path was springing back and rocketing him forwards at every step he took, while concrete was dense and every step would send a shooting jolt up Yuri's leg. Small dust clouds kicked up behind him and his shoes crunched on bits of gravel that were buried into the otherwise smooth path, making a soothing steady sound.

The path looked a worn, as if it was once very well-used. That being said, the layers of lightly dusted dirt covering the hardpacked mud, and the weeds that tangled over and completely hid certain areas of the path hinted that the small dirt road had been forgotten over time. Yuri couldn't imagine why someone wouldn't want to come down this way. How someone could forget such a place. There were brightly coloured, oddly shaped wildflowers crawling close to the edge of the path, and tall trees cast cool shade with wide, leafy canopies where uniquely patterned birds flitted and fluttered through, whistling tunefully. Yuri felt as if he could run forever here. He was absolutely over the moon with this hidden, beautiful, strange new world. Yuri felt his muddled mind become clearer and lighter the more he ran. He felt a sudden new energy flowing through him, as if the forest had some sort of power that made him run. And when his feet meet nothing but air and the sky suddenly became much farther away, Yuri learned just how little power the forest actually had.

Victor was not pouting.

...

He was not!

He was not hiding away in his bedroom, gloomily petting his fluffy dog like a petty teenaged girl as he glared impatiently at his phone. He was _not_.

He was not replaying the conversations like movies, and the actions like plays in his head, changing each move, each voice, each word to find a better outcome like a strategist faced with a chessboard of pieces. It just wasn't happening.

"This isn't fair." He grumbled like a sulking child who was denied a piece of cake before dinner. "I was just trying to _help_ him. I didn't even mean to tell his parents to start with!" Victor threw a hand in the air dramatically. "I _apologized_ , I _tried_ to explain that it was an accident— and now I'm being punished! You hear me, Makkachin? _Punished_! Chastised! Ignored! Put in the dog house! For trying to help, but accidentally making everything… much… much worse." Victor stilled, shoulders slumping as his temper tantrum became a guilty conscious. "I messed everything up." He said, as if just no realizing what he had done. "I ruined _everything_." A silence creeped through the spacious room. The guilty spell didn't last long. "But it wasn't my fault!" Victor exclaimed, suddenly irritated and feeling as if he was itching all over with an obnoxious, gnawing guilt.

Makkachin, either startled or annoyed by the thunderous exclamation, pulled away from his owner and leapt down from the bed. He stalked, much like a wronged cat, over to the door and nosed it open, escaping the room and ignoring Victor's pleas to come back. Victor leapt off his bed to shut his door moodily, muttering all the while about obnoxious pets who betray their owner. Victor flopped sideways across his bed, wrinkled sheets spilling onto his cluttered floor. Silence was stifling and rather unsettling.

The hot springs was usually full of noise, mostly from Yuri clumsily ambling down the halls while running into things and people, knocking various objects off of tables and counters. It was full of chatter with Yuri and his mother chatting away like long-lost best friends and Yuri's older sister teasing him gently about everything from his skating abilities to his weight, which was not a problem anymore (poor Yuri suffered from the gift of having a sister with the memory of an elephant and the maturity of a six-year-old). The hot springs was full of energy any time Yuri was there— but that might just be because Victor never experienced the hot springs without Yuri there. He and Yuri were sewn together at the hip, shackled together at the wrists, tied together by the pinkies. And suddenly they had been ripped apart, shackles unlocked and stitches plucked. Without Yuri, it was quiet. Too quiet. It might have been actually quite peaceful, had Victor not been so restless and agitated. It might have been a nice calm atmosphere that was both healing and rejuvenating. It could have provided the proper environment for a restful nap, or a soothing stroll, or to just _be_. But instead, it made Victor's skin crawl and it left him suffocating with a horrible, lonely, broken feeling inside.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered with a gentle rapping. Someone was knocking on Victor's door. Victor froze and stared at his bedroom door. For half a second, he thought it was Yuri, but Yuri would either burst in with enthusiasm, then start apologizing frantically, or he would knock, but his knocking was normally much more timid and shy than this urgent rapping. Victor was about to get up and answer the knock, but a slight glance around his room stopped him in his tracks. His bedroom was trashed.

Books were stacked in meaningless piles, others in squared off neater stacks and a wastebasket was tipped over, letting wrappers and paper balls spill onto the floor to mingle with the clothes that were strewn across the room with pairs of shoes and old skates tossed in. Pencils and leaves of paper, some printed, others scribbled on with notes and plans were piled up high on the desk, the desk lamp lying somewhere on the ground where it had fallen a while ago, its owner either too lazy or too preoccupied to pick it up. Trinkets and baubles littered the shelves haphazardly with no rhyme or reason, as did random boxes of various personal items that he had not yet unpacked from his move into the hot springs. Normally Victor was quite neat. It just so happens that lately he had other things on his mind than keeping his room tidy and organized. The rapping got a little louder. Victor lurched out of bed, feeling disoriented and rattled.

"Ah— uh, just a minute!" Victor stumbled awkwardly before acknowledging the person at the door perkily. He began quickly shuffling and tripping around the room the moment his feet hit the floor. He kicked piles of clothes from one end of the room to the bed, lifting the long blankets to kick his clothing under the bed.

"Victor?" Crap. Yuri's mom. If it had been anyone else— Yuri, Yuri's sister, Yuri's father, Yurio— literally anyone else, Victor wouldn't have been in such a panic as he was when he discovered that it was Yuri's mother on the other side of the door. Yuri's mother always made him feel guilty, though she never did anything specific that made him feel that way. It must be a weird mom thing that made Victor feel as if he had something to hide. He just had a messy room, that wasn't a crime— was it? Working faster, he dropped the blankets so they hid the masses of fabric hidden under his bed, Victor leapt over the bed and bolted to the closet, tossing shoes and skates and various objects in.

"Victor, are you okay?" the soft voice questioned. Victor slammed the closet door shut and ran over to the desk and began scrabbling around to shove papers, and pens, and erasers, and meaningless gadgets and trinkets into the large desk drawer, making the whole desk rattle.

"I'm fine, I'm just… changing!" Victor announced over his shoulder, making a face at his own excuse while kicking several bulky bags of his skating costumes behind the bedroom door. His foot caught in one of the many bag straps, causing him to face plant rather suddenly with pinwheeling arms, making a sound very much like an explosion upon his impact with the unforgivingly hard wood of the floor. He gave the bags one last push to the wall before scrambling up into a standing position, swiping a quick hand through his hair to smooth it before he yanked the door open.

"Hi, Mrs. Katsuki!" Victor exclaimed with an overly cheerful voice that had a hint of breathlessness due to his acrobatic speed cleaning. He barely cracked the door, blocking the woman's view of his room with his body by leaning against the door frame to mimic what he thought was a casual stance. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, double-checking the delusion of organization he had hastily created in his room.

"Oh dear, are you okay? You look a bit peaky, are you sleeping well? You haven't been eating much, but then again none of us are, really. I suppose no one has much of an appetite since, well..." Yuri's mother trailed off awkwardly, referring to when Victor accidentally blurted out Yuri's deepest, darkest secret. There was a moment of silence before Mrs. Katsuki moved to speak again. Shaking her head as if to rid herself of dark thoughts, she reached up with both hands to pat and pull at Victor's face as if examining him for illness or injury. "You really ought to take care of yourself better, despite everything." She said wisely.

"Oh, I'm—"

"Please, Victor, I'm not blind. I've raised two children, one of which who loves to hide things from his mother…" the poor woman broke off, most likely realizing just how much the said son had been hiding from her. Victor shifted awkwardly, not knowing quite how to comfort his friend's mother. Mrs. Katsuki suddenly grinned with false brightness, as if the lull of conversation hadn't happened. "Come to think of it," she continued. "I think you've actually been looking particularly poorly since you and Yuri had your falling out. Have you two talked recently?"

"Mrs. Katsuki, please. Everything is fine." Victor said kindly, stepping slightly out of her grasp. "Now, if there's nothing you needed to speak with me about—" Victor began to slink back into his room but Mrs. Katsuki reached out and grasped his arm.

"Oh, dear, look at me rambling on like this. You must forgive me, I've been rather nervous ever since…" The silence lulled awkwardly and painfully for a second time. "Anyways, I wanted to ask if you've seen Yuri recently. He hasn't come back from his run— oh, I just knew it was a bad idea to let him go on those alone. It's nearing ten, he should have been back hours ago." Mrs. Katsuki began wringing her hands and babbling anxiously, her plump cheeks turning pink and her eyes gleaming worriedly.

"Actually, no." Victor admitted softly. He and Yuri didn't talk. At all. Yuri hardly even glanced Victor's way anymore. Still, he couldn't help but feel apprehensive, his stomach churning and burning as if he had swallowed acid. "Has he never been late? Ever?" Victor asked cautiously.

"No, no, especially not recently. He knows the rules— we have _strict_ rules…" The look on Mrs. Katsuki's face screamed "perish the thought," as if it was unheard of for a child do disregard their parents' rules.

"What if he just lost track of time?" Victor suggested, trying to calm the woman down. "Or maybe he needed some extra time alone. He hasn't had much of that lately. Time alone." Victor hinted gently with understanding in his voice.

"But the last time he was alone…" She started. They both looked down. Third time. "I just couldn't bear for that to happen again. What if he made a mistake? And went… went too deep. He could seriously hurt himself. We wouldn't find him for… for maybe hours. What if…" Victor remained silent. Mrs. Katsuki suddenly looked ashamed, as if she had something to be guilty about. "Oh, I'm sorry dear, it's not your fault. You're dealing with… all of this as well, I'm sorry I was so insensitive." Mrs. Katsuki's hands covered her mouth in horror, but Victor just shook his head, smiling gently.

"Don't worry about me, I'll pull through. It's you and Yuri that I'm worried about." Victor said honestly, a touch of remorse colouring his tone. Mrs. Katsuki must have seen this because her beaming smile was understanding and warm, and she patted his arm with a gentle palm.

"I'll give him one more ring and if he doesn't answer, I'll go out and search for him myself. I'll call a full-on search party if I have to!" Victor grinned at Mrs. Katsuki's energy and determination. The woman was like a firework.

"Why don't I run through his route and see if I can't catch up to him?" Victor offered, not wanting the already busy woman to have to do even more work and exhaust herself even further. The simple act of kindness earned him a joyous crow and a big, sudden, jolting hug.

Victor couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged by a maternal person like this. The soft, warm arms that cradled him with a fierce, gentleness made him feel secure and protected. Loved, even. It was strange and beautiful at the same time. Victor blinked and snapped back to the present, blushing at how ridiculously nostalgic and pitiful he was being, whether he was verbalizing his pathetic yearning for something so simple like a hug or not.

"You are such a dear, thank you so much! I'll go make both of you something sweet for when you return!" And with that, Mrs. Katsuki trotted away, practically sparkling with cheer. Victor blinked, momentarily stunned, before a big smile almost split his face.

He loved this family.

Shaking off the warm and fuzzies, Victor stepped out into the hall, pulling his door shut tightly behind him. The small moment of joy had long melted off, leaving him feeling even worse than his originally glum mood. He attempted at a smile, knowing that the habitants of the hot springs would be a little put off if the famous, sparkling Victor Nikiforov was walking around the place looking like a kicked, lost puppy.

The place was bustling with guests rushing back and forth, going to the springs, readying to visit places in the town, preparing to leave— energy and chatter both filtered through the air. A tall man was tossing a toddler in the air, grinning at his childish giggles. A tired looking woman was ushering two small girls towards the door as a man carrying several suitcases behind her and swooped in and pecked her on the cheek. A small group of teenagers raced by, teasing one of the boys in their little group about snoring. A few people attempted to stop Victor and ask questions, some going as far as grabbing him by the arm and demanding that he stopped. Completely used to this, Victor smiled and nodded, but successfully evaded any and all questions and attempts at a conversation by the time he reached the door. He tugged on his sneakers, lethargically tying the strings in what resembled more of a knot than an actual bow and heaved himself off the floor. He pulled on his light jacket, struggling a bit with the zipper that caught itself in the dark blue fabric. He finally did make it out the door— only to face the deathly, demonic, hellish 1000-step stair case that traveled all the way down the somewhat of a hill that the hot springs sat on top of like a cherry on an ice cream.

"The things I do for the people I love, I mean honestly." He muttered for himself, thinking of Yuri's smile. He was feeling very much like a self-sacrificing saint, right about now, but it was worth the exasperation and twinge of annoyance.

He knew Yuri would not appreciate an ambush from his parents while he was running, which was the only thing he was allowed to do outside of parental supervision. It was driving Yuri crazy. Victor could tell. Between being watched constantly by his family and feeling as if Victor, his only friend had betrayed him, Yuri was close to cracking. Victor knew this. It was agonizing to watch and he had no idea how to fix it. Victor had known that he made a huge mistake the moment Yuri's family gave him that horrified look when he let it slip about Yuri's "problem." He knew this mistake would cause drastic damages, but he never knew it could be this bad. He never knew that Yuri would stop looking in his direction or would act as if Victor was a translucent ghost, see through and almost nonexistent. He never knew that Yuri would ignore attempts to apologize or efforts to start a conversation. He never knew that Yuri would stop confiding in him. He also didn't know that Yuri ignoring him would hurt so much. That being mute and invisible to Yuri was such an awful thing to live with. He had to set things right. Not just for himself, but for Yuri and the Katsuki family as well. He had to.

...

Blinding. Bright, and white, and blinding. Light? Must be. Feathery things. Green feathery things. Attached to tall brown things. Leaves? Trees. So far away. Hard and sharp digging into soft flesh. Hard and sharp. Rock? Test-scratch. Yes, it's rock. Can't move. Stuck. Stuck between rock? No. Stuck and can't move. Pressure from all sides, pushing inwards. Senses dampened. Why? Confusion. What happened? Running. Running on dirt. Happy to run on dirt. Happy. Dirt ended. Stepped into air. Arms flailing. Insides rising. Tried to hold on. Missed the ledge. Fall? Fly? Float? Disconnected. Legs. Where are legs? Can't feel legs. Arm is hot. Burning, hot arm. Shoe. Shoe so far away. Why is shoe all the way over there? Did it run away? It must have run away. Head ache. Why is the light so bright— can someone turn it out? Victor turn it out. Victor. Where's Victor? Is Victor not here? Victor's always here, why is he not here? Panic. Heart race. Can't breathe. Can't breathe, can't breathe. Can'tbreathecan'tbreathe _can'tbreathe_. Wet and running. Rain? Sticky rain. Sticky, red rain. Odd. Bre

Breathebreathebreathe…

 **AN: Actually read this one if you normally don't read author's notes, there's important info at the end, so go ahead and skip to there if you don't want to read my ramblings. Just look for the line of random symbols and whatnots, that's not me cursing you, it's just me trying to get your attention. **

**Brownie points to whoever noticed the poem reference. Hint: Robert Frost is my favorite poet. Besides Edgar Allen Poe. And myself (teehee).**

 **Even more points to whoever noticed the tv show reference. Hint: I just finished _Grey's Anatomy_ —would not recommend (you should still totally watch it). That show is probably why this chapter is such a tease. You're welcome. Take it up with _Grey's_.**

 **! #$%^ &*()(*&^%$# ! #$%^&*(*&^%$# #$%^&*&^%$# ! #$%^&*&^%$# #$%^&^%$# #$**

 **Okay, now that I've got your attention, we've got real talk to do.**

 **Firstly, I won't be posting next week, terribly sorry about that. I'm going to be somewhere very high with no internet access. I'll still see your reviews and comments and questions and whatnot because those notifications come through my phone, which has at least a half a gig of data left, but no promises on being able to respond though.**

 **Second thing, one of you lovelies let me know about a typo in one of the previous chapters. If it bothers you guys, I'll totally go back and fix it, but if no one is really worried about it, I'll just leave it. I totally understand that random things can be super obnoxious and annoying, so if typos are like that for you, then seriously— let me know.**

 **Last thing, I swear after this I'm done. In this story, I'm trying to portray believable reactions from a family that discovers they have a child with depression/anxiety type issues. I don't know if I'm doing very well, so if anyone has real experience with this situation, let me know what I can do to make it more real. Also, I'm trying to make Yuri reacting to Victor and his family but also his own depression seem real, too. If any of you suffer from the problems he does and you feel comfortable with telling a stranger, feel free to tell me some of your experiences so I can make Yuri a bit more realistic. No pressure. I'm open minded and non-judgmental. I love you all! Keep reviewing and commenting, you know I love hearing from you!**


	5. Lost and Found

**AN:**

 **I'm baaaaack! Did you miss me? Cuz I missed all of you!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri! On Ice**

 **This is a continuation of my interpretation of a few suggestions from Shiranai Atsune and it's a bit on the long side, but I think you guys will be okay. This chapter might get a bit boring, but for the next one I'm planning on bringing you guys to tears. In a good way.**

 _ **Warning**_ **: we're going to have a few needles/IVs, plus some injuries described in detail (I don't know if it can be called graphic or anything, but it definitely paints a not-so-pretty picture) so if that stuff freaks you out, look out.**

 **Thanks for tuning in again, and here we go!**

CH5- Lost and Found

No.

NO.

 _NO._

Victor's gnarled fingers were scraped raw, several nails were broken or torn off completely and bright red blood clotted with sticky, sweet smelling mud. He ignored the stinging sensation that stabbed repeatedly through his wounded hands, and continued to dig frantically, chucking handfuls of sopping mud behind himself like a dog kicking up dirt. His clothes were covered with mud as well, staining the white of his jacket with streaks and smears. A cold sweat sheened across his face and he grunted deeply with the physical exertion. He swallowed, grimacing— he could hear them.

The whimpers. And the cries. It was obvious that the fallen victim he was currently unearthing was in some sort of pain, but the boy was unconscious so Victor couldn't ask him what was hurting. Victor couldn't attempt to heal— or at least comfort. Victor felt useless. And so, he dug.

He could see a hand. A familiar hand. Soft, despite the caked mud. Delicate and slender despite the several joints that were newly swollen. Finely shaped, despite the few fingers broken, snapped and hanging at wrong angles. Even though they were broken and a bit misshapen, Victor recognized those hands. He would recognize them anywhere.

The hands he held when he felt himself was falling apart. When his emotions were boiling over the brim, his demons threatening to take over. The hands who held his pieces together when he feared he would shatter, his protective barrier being made of ceramic and china— fragile and easy to break. The hands he had restrained when they attempted to hurt the innocent— when they attempted to hurt their owner. When those hands shook and trembled with anything akin to fear, or loss, or desperation, he would grab them close, reassuring with his own presence.

Yuri's hands.

Shaking himself from stupid, sentimental thoughts, Victor turned his attention back to the task at hand: unburying his dearest friend. It was now frigid, even the mud was numbing Victor's already frozen fingers. Though the autumn days were hot, the nights were freezing. Victor's breath crystalized into a fine fog in front of his face. His limbs were slowly losing feeling, yet were becoming somehow warm. And if Victor was already feeling the effects of the crisp night, that could only mean that Yuri, who had been outside without protective clothing for hours, was about to lose his fingers.

After a certain stage, hypothermia became permanent damage to the body, especially the limbs. This lead to amputation. Yuri couldn't lose his hands. That was how Victor had figured out that the body buried under the dirt and rock was Yuri. That was how when Victor was lost in the throws of a nightmare, he knew that it was Yuri coming to his rescue and not a figment of his nightly terrors. When he felt lost or confused, a slight brush of those hands was all he needed to ground himself.

With a newfound energy, Victor attacked the dirt around Yuri's still body again, this time even more agitation and franticness than before. In just minutes, he found what he was looking for. He let out a crow of joy. It was Yuri's other hand. Thanking everything heavenly and godly in the world, Victor took the hand he just found and the one he had found minutes before and pressed them between his own. Yuri's hands felt like ice— Victor would know. He grew up around and made a living preforming on ice. He tightened his grip on Yuri's limp hands and blew out warm gusts of breath on them, attempting to add warmth. He eyed the hands' purple colouring. They were dangerously close to a more severe onset of hypothermia. Despite the heaviness of everything, Victor had to feel the slightest bit exasperated. Trust Yuri to go and fall off a cliff to start with, but then manage to do it on the coldest night of the season as well. Life was always interesting with Katsuki Yuri around.

But none of this was Yuri's fault. None at all. Had Yuri's parents not been so overbearing and stalkerish, Yuri wouldn't have even felt the need to change his course just to be able to spend more time alone, away from his family. Had the poor man not been so pressured by the people he loved to change and suddenly become healthier and happier, maybe he wouldn't have been so distracted by thoughts that were so heavy that he didn't even notice that he was running towards a cliff—

Victor's breath caught so suddenly, he began hacking violently. He sucked in deep breaths of sharp, cold air and dropped Yuri's hands. What if this wasn't as accidental as Victor assumed?

What if this path wasn't taken on a sudden whim? What if Yuri knew about this place? Knew about the path, and the cliff and how dangerous a fall from that height would be. Knew how long it would be before he was found, before anyone even noticed his absence. Knew that no one would even think to check the bottom of a cliff that belonged to such a random trail. A random trail that must have been abandoned because of such a dangerous cliff. Victor's hands went up and clawed at his hair as his breath became more ragged.

" _Are you… are you suicidal?" Victor whispered quickly, as if the word were forbidden. The reaction was instantaneous. Yuri went rigid, he absolutely froze and Victor was pretty certain he had even stopped breathing._

" _No," Yuri shook his head. "No." Normally, Victor would have accepted Yuri's answer, trusting his student to always be honest with him, but when Yuri didn't stop shaking his head, he felt his belief in Yuri's answer slipping._

" _Yuri?" Victor asked suspiciously._

" _Yeah?" Yuri's normally high voice seemed to pitch even farther up the octave._

" _Are you lying to me?" Victor asked bluntly, gripping Yuri's hand tightly when the other attempted to pull away. "Yuri please." Yuri looked away, his eyes trailing from the wall to the floor to the ceiling to the drawer chest to the door—literally everywhere but Victor. "I'm sorry but, you aren't very subtle." Victor deadpanned. Yuri gave a timid giggle, nervously gripping the back of his neck with the free hand that wasn't being choked by Victor's anxious grip. Nerves jangled, Victor grasped Yuri by the sides of his face, forcing the smaller to look him in the eye._

" _You can tell me." Victor told him, honesty gleaming in his eyes. Yuri gaped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish until Victor gently grasped his chin. Yuri's wide brown eyes began filling with tears. Victor felt his own shoulders slack with guilt and an aching sadness. "It's okay." He whispered as Yuri began gasping for breath, frantically attempting to hold his tears back and keep his emotions at bay. Victor's face contorted into a pained expression and he wrapped his arms tightly around Yuri, tugging him to his chest. Yuri's labored breathing became sobs as Victor pressed his face into Yuri's hair. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay…." Victor chanted, his promise laced with love and loss. The two sat, comforted by each other's presence, the sound of soft breathing lulling them both into a sense of security and unity. For a while it was silent, Yuri's occasional sniffle or hiccup, and Victor's responding murmur were the only audible noises, though the steady thrum of Victor's heart soothed Yuri as well._

" _I'm sorry."_

He had been warned. That was a warning, a clear and obvious warning. Yuri told Victor that thought about death— his own death. That at least one time in his life, Yuri had contemplated his own death and how it could happen. He thought about who would miss him and decided that no one would— despite how many times Victor attempted to remind him of the people who loved him. The family and friends he'd leave behind. The grieving depression and storming anger at the sheer injustice of the loss of someone like Yuri that would tear through Yuri's admirers. Yuri didn't believe him. Victor thought that Yuri would come around. That he would eventually understand. That if Victor said it enough times, the nail of love would be eventually driven through his student's thick, self-deprecating skull. But it didn't. Victor had failed. Yuri still felt lost, and alone, and unneeded, and unloved. Yuri still felt like life wasn't worth it. That ending his life was the best decision.

This was a suicide attempt.

Victor was the only one who had known about the suicidal thoughts and tendencies of Yuri. And Victor had failed to do anything about it. He had known about this secret, but he never told. He never told Yuri's parents, Yuri's therapist— no one who had the ability to help, to actually change Yuri's outlook on his own life. Would it have helped anyways, though? Would Yuri just be even more angry if Victor had not only slipped about the bathroom incident, but also about the conversation about suicide that the two had? Had Yuri only told Victor about all the heavy things because he thought he was telling them to only one person and in privacy? Did Yuri truly not want anyone to know? Did he not want to heal? Victor grabbed Yuri's hands back into his own and hugged them to his chest as closely as he could. As if the tighter he held, the sooner help would come and the sooner Yuri would heal.

When Victor slipped about Yuri's… cutting problem, it felt as if the world had ended. He had betrayed the person he cared about most in his life. Betrayed the trust that was so hesitantly given. The trust that was a gift, that was a rarity. And Victor had thrown that gift back in the face of the one who had given it. But when the secret was out, Victor felt relieved, for some reason. As if some huge load or burden was heaved off his shoulders, chopped into little pieces and passed around so all the people who knew got a piece of the stress and the fear that came with knowledge. Knowledge is power. It has the power to build fear, the power to destroy bonds between friends, yet also the power to heal and build stronger ties to loved ones. Victor knew all of that. He knew that when he begged Yuri to tell him what he was going through that he would suffer himself from the weight of the knowledge. He just didn't know that knowledge was also pain. Pain, and a secret that was really difficult to keep.

Yuri needed help, Victor realized. He couldn't sit here and wallow in his own self-pity when someone who was hurt and in danger of getting even more hurt was relying on him. Dehydration, exposure, increasingly severe hypothermia— these all threatened Yuri's wellbeing and had Victor racing the clock. He needed to get Yuri somewhere warm and safe as soon as possible. The boy's wounds needed to be bandaged before they were infected, and he would probably need a few shots to combat the tetanus that was most likely raging through his body. He needed help now.

Oh wait.

That would require actually calling for help.

He probably should have already done that.

He should do that now.

Yes. Calling for help. That's good.

Trembling, dirt stained fingers dug into his pocket, yanking out the flip-phone that lay inside. He flicked the phone open, the bright screen illuminating his anxious features. His fingers sped across the keys, dialing that all important number.

"119, what's your emergency?" a calm, almost monotonous female voice asked.

"My friend— oh, God… oh, God…" Victor's free hand went up to cover his mouth, attempting to reel in a desperate, distraught sob. When he was about to say what had happened out loud, everything became too real. His burst of confidence disappeared. His body was shaking like an earthquake and for some reason he couldn't get control of his spasming muscles. He tried to formulate the correct words to get the operator to understand the situation but his brain was short-circuiting, his words choking off in his slowly restricting throat.

Panic.

He was panicking.

He couldn't do that— he had to stay strong. He had to be strong for Yuri, otherwise the lady on the phone wasn't going to be able to send help.

"Sir, is your friend injured or in need of help?" the woman asked gently. Victor could hardly hear her. Sound was muffled, as if cotton had been stuffed into his ears. It might as well have been stuffed in his head, too, because his thoughts felt slow and disoriented. His limbs felt as if lead was lining the insides and he was very conscious about how loud his heart was beating. He had to be strong. For Yuri. Be strong.

Be strong.

Be strong.

 _Be strong_ —

"Sir, can you tell me where you are?" the woman on the line attempted to get Victor's attention again. Victor snapped his head up, finding his words again.

"Ah— yes, my... my friend is Katsuki Yuri—" Victor broke off, partially from an odd slap of mental confusion and partially from his gasping for air. "H-he… he fell? He fell… down a, like, a— um… 'sa cliff…. It's a cliff, I guess…." Victor felt lightheaded. The world was spinning and tilting.

"Your friend… fell off a cliff?" she asked, sounding a little confused and unbelieving as she attempted to track the conversation.

"Yes… hiking…. Hiking trail… it's by the Katsukis' hot springs— that's where he lives… cuz his name is Katsuki. The trail… i-it's by the, um, the road…" Victor stuttered, attempting to think clearly.

"Are you in need of help as well, sir? Or is it just Mr. Katsuki who needs attention?"

"I'm fine…. But he— hypothermia…. Mild— moderate? Getting worse…. He's unconscious— did I mention that?" Victor asked a little detachedly, interrupting his own ramblings.

"Ah, no you didn't mention that—" the woman sounded concerned, but Victor barely noticed and, instead, he plowed on with his nervous chattering again.

"Oh, well my friend is unconscious… he fell. He fell from a cliff… did I mention that?"

"Yes sir, you did mention the cliff. Okay, we're sending help right now so do your best to keep your friend warm, okay? Would you like me to stay on the phone with you until they arrive?" the woman sounded very kind, like a mother trying to soothe a child.

"Y— ah, no, no. We're— I'm okay, thanks." Victor hung up suddenly, letting the phone thud softly to the grassy ground. He stared at Yuri who lay prone in front of him.

It was so ungodly cold. Victor's body shivered, his bones rattling and teeth chattering together. Despite the cold that numbed him to his very soul, Victor felt his face burning. Anxiety and tension rose every second that Yuri was outside in the freezing conditions with serious wounds that needed care.

This was ridiculously unfair. What had Yuri done to deserve this? What had the Katsuki family done to deserve this? Victor didn't even believe that even he _himself_ deserved this. No one deserved this kind of agony and loss. This amount of pain compacted and twisted so that it would somehow fit within the skin of a single person. Victor reached out a tentative hand. He lightly touched the sleeve of Yuri's jacket, fearing that he would only cause more hurt if he did anything else. He stared at Yuri's face. It was so calm. So peaceful. Like he was asleep. Suddenly reminded of another part of life that looks a lot like sleeping, but is a whole lot more permanent, Victor coughed out a sob. He squeezed the sleeve of Yuri's jacket tightly in one fist while his other hand went up to cover his mouth. The whole situation felt terrifyingly familiar. He felt his breath quicken into gasps, and his throat constrict until it ached. His heart felt heavy and his eyes burned.

And then Victor threw himself across his friend's body.

And Victor sobbed.

Violently.

Like a child.

His head was buried in his friend's chest, and his arms held the still, cold body close as if in a desperate attempt to share body heat. Not but a few weeks ago, he and Yuri were happily skating around the rink, teasing each other, learning from each other. Not but a few weeks ago, Yuri had been happy with a big grin on his face and Victor had been optimistic about their big, bright, endless futures. But now, weeks later, Yuri's future didn't seem so big and bright and long anymore. Now, weeks later, after secrets had been shed as painful as the tears that followed, nothing would ever be the same. No big happy grins and long days of skating. No friendly banter and sunny family.

Why had this happened? Victor mulled the question over and over, like a mantra. Why had this happened, why had this happened, why, why, why? They say life isn't fair, but this was beyond unfair. This was uncalled for. This was blasphemy. This was cruel. This was… Victor was running out of words strong enough to call it, but it was a very bad thing. Very bad.

But why would this happen to such a kind, loving, warm person? Why not to a cold hearted, hateful criminal? Or a violent, propaganda-flinging bully? The world needs people like Yuri. Victor needs people like Yuri. Victor needs Yuri. But that was the problem, wasn't it? Everyone needed. Everyone wanted to take. Society would drain any pure source dry with their selfish greed. And no one gave. It was all take, take, take, take. And no one gave. No one but Yuri. Yuri gave everyone all of himself. Everything he had he gave. To make people smile. To make people happy. To make people proud. It seems the world has taken just a little too much from Yuri this time.

The wailing siren of an ambulance pierced through the silence. Victor hardly noticed it, the chaos of the maddening thoughts whizzing through his mind were all much louder than any siren. It wasn't until he saw the bright beams of a flashlights flickering through the trees when he realized that help had come. He couldn't see the flashing lights from the ambulance, and he could barely hear shouts from the searchers through the densely packed trees.

He heard the rustling of leaves and crackling of twigs snapping underfoot. He glanced up and found a full rescue crew of firemen, policemen and several nurses standing above him with their flashlights glowing like the heavens, looking like angels coming to his rescue. Victor was extremely glad they had come. He vaguely wondered how they found him. They must be very good at tracking, it took Victor a long time to find where Yuri was. Maybe Victor left a trail on accident. Maybe they had sniffing dogs. Victor always did have a soft spot for dogs.

"Just a moment, sir, and we'll be right down. Just hold on." A policeman shouted down with a deep, jovial voice that reminded Victor of Santa Claus. A fireman that was even smaller than Yuri tossed one end of a thick rope down and secured the other end by tying it tightly to a nearby tree. He began talking to several nurses in a voice softer than Victor could hear, despite his efforts to strain his ears. The nurses nodded sharply, as if they were soldiers taking orders.

The smallest of the nurses, a young woman with a short bob haircut, took a backpack styled bag from the taller nurse with the blonde highlights in her dark hair and threw the bag onto her back. She then gripped the rope tightly in her hands and began sliding down it, kicking off the side of the cliff casually as if she might be sliding back down a rock wall and not a jagged cliff. It was a good thing that she didn't wear the white uniforms that nurses on TV wore, Victor realized. She would be covered in dark smears of mud and probably wouldn't be able to move as easily. Instead she had a simple set of light blue cargo pants and a matching scrub top with a pair of sensible black running shoes.

When she hit the bottom, she rushed over to Yuri and Victor and began asking questions a mile a minute, all the while trying to observe Yuri through the rubble that piled on top of him. As she chattered away, asking questions and making comments, a fireman in full bulky uniform slid down the rope, but it looked more like it was a controlled fall than anything else. When he landed on the bottom, he ripped his hat off and tossed it to the side, the hard plastic making a loud crack as it hit a cluster of rocks. He then turned around and looked up toward he cliff, holding his arms out as if to catch something, which he did. Victor couldn't tell what the odd bulky object was until the fireman began unfolding it. When the object was set upright, Victor understood.

It was a lamp. Huge lamp. Very big, foldable lamp. There was a long, neon orange cord that lead up through the forest. Victor wondered where it attached. He didn't think there were outlets in the forest. That would be a very nice improvement to forests. Outlets in trees. Victor giggled a bit at his musings, finding himself to be quite the conversationalist. The light emitted from the lamp was extremely bright, almost like a personal sun. Like a portable, personal, foldable sun.

Victor watched as the fireman who was setting up the lamp, now joined by several more who were climbing down the rope, stepped over to Yuri. The firemen clustered around both Yuri and Victor like a basketball huddle and began whispering conspiratorially between each other. Victor couldn't make out what they were saying over the loud rushing sound in his ears, but he figured they were talking about how to get Yuri up the cliff safely. Victor just clung to Yuri and stared up at the firemen with an uncomprehending, blank look.

"Hun, I'm going to need you to let go of your friend." The nurse suddenly appeared by Victor's shoulder, patting him gently. Victor stared at her with his blank look. Then realization struck like a lightning bolt and he shook his head so fast, the world started spinning. "Just for a little while. We have to get him ready to be moved. If he's not ready, it could hurt him. You understand?" the nurse asked patiently and slowly. Victor paused, then nodded slowly. He did, however, refuse to let go of Yuri's hand. The nurse gave him a peck on the cheek, saying that Yuri was a lucky man. Whatever that meant.

"Ah, ah, not so fast!" the nurse exclaimed, seeing Victor begin to clumsily shift away from his friend and the nurse, not releasing the hand he kept in a death grip. "Let me clean up your hands a bit." The nurse demanded.

She dropped her bag onto the ground and it made a clinking, rustling sound. It was obviously heavy and overstuffed with supplies. She pulled some bandages out of her back and a bottle whose bright label claimed to be sanitizing fluid. She uncapped the bottle, using her mouth to unscrew it, which Victor found to be unsanitary and a little gross. He didn't want her cooties, no matter how nice she was. Bleh.

"This will sting some." She warned, pouring some of the surprisingly cool liquid across Victor's hands. The stinging hardly registered at all. It was dampened, like the pins and needles feeling from a limb "falling asleep" and losing proper blood flow.

The kind nurse then carefully cleaned the mud and dried blood off of Victor's hands and wrapped them in bandages with an agonizing slowness. "You're missing a few nails, sweetheart. That needs some attention before it gets infected— and you can't just wrap it in cloth or tape and call it a day." She would argue if he tried to say that he could do it himself. When she had wrapped to her satisfaction, the nurse turned away and began taking other things out the bag. She pulled out several bottles and was fiddling with an empty bag that looking like it could be used for an IV. She must have caught Victor's odd look because she began to explain what each item was for. The soft drone of speaking soothed Victor's frayed nerves.

"One of these bottles is just plain saline, which is a saltwater sort of thing. It'll help rehydrate your friend. He's been out here for hours without a drink, so his body is quite dehydrated." She set down the blue tinged bottle she had held up for Victor to see. She then reached for a stainless-steel thermos. "This is full of warm liquid, similar to saline, so we can start warming your friend from the inside out. Hypothermia can be very dangerous and we want to make sure we get a start on the warming process as soon as we can to prevent a more severe form hypothermia that can lead to amputations, or any illnesses or infections that can be caused by exposure to low temperatures and…" as the obviously well-educated, well-read nurse continued and Victor blinked mutely at up her, lost in a swarm of disconnected, quicksilver thoughts.

The nurse allowed him to move back and sit by Yuri's head again, and he did so a bit tentatively, worried that he might do something to somehow hurt Yuri. Victor settled next to his student's head and began brushing his fingers through the dirty, tangled hair. He understood that he couldn't move Yuri's head. The nurse said to not to. He couldn't remember what reason she had, but just that he had to keep his student's head steady.

Victor turned his attention to attempting to keep up with the conversation between the firefighters who were contemplating on how to get Yuri up the rope. He glanced over to the rope and found the nurse standing there, talking to someone above on the cliff. He wondered when she got there, then vaguely recalled hearing a voice calling to someone named Sakura— which must be his nurse's name. Squinting, Victor realized that her arms were stretched up and she was receiving a long, flat surfboard-looking thing that had straps all over it. Once the board was securely in her grasp, the nurse— Sakura— skipped back over to the pod of firemen who had shuffled away from Yuri and Victor.

She began conversing with the firemen and held up a thick, hard looking blue piece of plastic. She mimed wrapping it and showed them how it clasped before handing it over to one of the firemen. The man who won the prize of the bulky blue plastic was tall and gangly with straw-like hair. The fireman trudged over to Victor and Yuri with the plastic thing in hand. Victor wondered what is for.

"That's a neck brace." Sakura explained, suddenly popping up next to Victor. "It keeps your friend's head steady so that if he broke his neck, he won't hurt himself even more and accidentally paralyze himself." Victor stared. "Sorry, you were talking out loud to yourself." Sakura shrugged, explaining her magical ability to read Victor's mind. Paralyze. That meant you can't move. If you can't move, you can't skate. Yuri would be destroyed if he couldn't skate.

"Please don't be paralyzed, please don't be paralyzed…" Victor chanted, watching the fireman slip one of the ends of the collar all the way around Yuri's neck. He froze, his eyes finally actually looking on the face of his injured friend. "Oh, God, Yuri. Why did you do this? Why…" Victor felt something warm trickled down his face. Before he could move to swipe the wetness away, a splotch landed on the fair face of his student. Sniffing, Victor swiped the liquid away and leaned down to peck the forehead of his most precious friend, as if apologizing for dropping a tear on him. He glanced up at the nurse gravely.

"You _have_ to heal him." He told Sakura with a sharp, but raw voice. His throat felt torn and ragged. He felt suddenly a bit more grounded, a bit more human. He assumed it was because Yuri was so close to being fully rescued and out of the blasted forest. "You have to." He repeated desperately. One of the fireman swiped a finger under his nose, and another sniffling loudly. "He's my everything. I don't have anything else. He's my _family_. _Please_." Sakura's eyes looked suspiciously red. And she nodded vigorously, before giving him a trembling, tight-lipped smile.

"Of course, of course." Sakura promised gently, "Now, we have to get him on this board. That will require a lot more moving, but since his neck is now stable, it should be okay." Sakura explained as if she were talking to a child. Victor took no offense, and rather relished the soothing, almost cooing tones. A pair of firemen took opposing ends of Yuri, one at the boy's injured head and the other at his feet. They worked together to heave Yuri out of his rubble prison and awkwardly laid him as carefully as they could on the board. Thin black straps were wrapped and tightened across his body, securing to the opposite side of the board, effectively restraining the injured skater. Yuri seemed to not even be breathing and he was strapped with his arms pinned to his sides, his body as straight as a rod. Victor imagined him snug in a coffin.

The firemen then carried their precious cargo on their shoulders. They attempted to keep the board steady, but the uneven ground and large, scattered boulders and rocks made it a bit difficult. They tripped and slid, and almost dropped Yuri several times before they made it over to the rope. When they finally did, the policeman and a nurse stood waiting for them.

"This will be a bit tricky, okay?" A fireman glanced behind himself to the others. "We're going to tip our friend here upright, like he's standing up, okay?" he then turned to Victor. "Don't worry, he won't fall out. Those straps are stronger than you think. He'll be safe. The man up on the cliff will reach down and pull him up while I push. It'll take a while, but it's important that you stay calm understand?" Victor nodded rapidly. "And remember, we don't know if your friend here can hear us. That means we have to be _extra_ calm, so we don't scare him, alright?" another vigorous nod from Victor, though he noted that the man was talking in an exaggerated slow and soft voice. "Alright, boys, let's do this!" the fireman seemed completely pumped and ready to awkwardly shove an injured man strapped to what looked like a surfboard up the edge of a cliff. Victor was intrigued.

He was also worried. And scared. And nervous. And quite possibly having a mental break down, which may or may not be due to the fact that his friend probably tried to commit suicide because he felt so betrayed by Victor who so selfishly and stupidly told a very special secret to the people who will probably hate Victor forever and—

"Breath, kid. Don't pass out on me, now." A fireman close to him ordered. Victor gave him a weak smile. One of the men was a few inches up the rope already, and Yuri was completely upright. The policeman that stood on the top of the cliff had his feet braced against two conveniently placed boulder-like rocks and was arching backwards, gripping the board that Yuri was tied to. He heaved the board out of the fireman's hands and collapsed backwards on his back, the board laying across his chest.

"Nailed it." Victor heard the policeman whisper, sounding a bit out of breath.

While Yuri had been awkwardly, yet successfully sent up the edge of the cliff, Sakura had stuffed all of the bottles and blankets back into the backpack that was now thrown over one shoulder. She struggled with her other arm, finally threading it between the bag and the strap before skipping up to the rope. The nurse wrapped the rope around one hand, probably in case she fell, Victor realized. Once she got the hang of the climb, the nurse resembled a ninja quickly scaling the cliff, looking stealthily and graceful with her smooth movements. When she reached the top, she looked down at Victor and shouted at him to come up.

Victor stumbled over to the rope and grabbed it in one hand. It was rough and coarse with wear and age. Little spindles and fibers stabbed his hand, sure to give him rope burn. He copied the actions of the nurse and wrapped the rope around his hand, grimacing at the feeling of the rope cutting into his palm and scratching the back of his hand. He then reached out with another hand and gripped the rope above his first hand. Not completely sure if he was doing it correctly, he glanced up at Sakura who was still on her knees, leaning over the edge of the cliff, giving him tips and bits of encouragement to help him up the rope.

"You're doing just fine." She assured him. "Just hold tightly onto the rope and walk your feet up. The higher up you can get them, the easier it will be to climb up. I would tell you to use the method that our friend the fireman used, but he used mainly his arms to support himself and climb up. People like you and me have more strength in our legs than our arms, so I'll walk you through my method, okay?" Victor nodded and swung his lower body upwards. Man, he was exhausted.

"Perfect, now you just have to walk normally. But up. Just walk normally… up." Sakura squinted at her own wording before shaking off the awkward moment. "It will be difficult because you have an even tougher battle with gravity than you do when you walk on a normal, flat ground, but you can do this." She added in a no-nonsense voice. Victor steeled himself and began walking his feet upwards, pulling upwards on the rope, but mostly relying on his legs to do the hard work. While he found the method Sakura told him to use to be very effective, he still wished someone could just pull the rope up so that all he had to do was hold one (which was a feat in itself). When he reached the top, Victor was suspended upside down in an unattractive and compromising way with his torso dangling off the cliff with his feet resting limply on firm ground. One of the firemen stepped over and pulled Victor up so strongly, Victor almost went sprawling onto the dirt.

"Sorry, kid. You okay?" the fireman patted Victor's back heartily and grinned. "You did great back there. Very brave, very strong." Victor felt like a child being praised for not having a panic attack at an inconvenient time, but it warmed his heart all the same.

"Er— thanks… where's—" Victor cut himself off when he caught a glimpse between the trees of the back doors of an ambulance being slammed shut. "Yuri!" he cried out, as if his friend could hear or reply. Suddenly fueled with energy, he made a mad dash through the thickly grown trees, hardly bothering to duck as tree limbs thwacked his face harshly. Dirt kicked up behind him and he could hear the fireman and the policeman shouting at him to come back, to stop running. To stop running to the injured, helpless student that was being taken from him.

Not running is what separates family. Not running is what caused all this mess to start with. The lack of anyone running to or at anything is what had drove Yuri literally to the edge of a cliff. From now on, Victor would always run to Yuri. Always.

Victor was near the tree line when he heard the thud of a driver door shutting, affirming his internal accusation that the nurses were planning to drive Yuri away and steal him from Victor, leaving Victor behind in the dirt. Literal dirt. There was dirt everywhere and Victor was almost positive that Yuri was allergic to dust, which was pretty much a descendant of dirt. That was just more evidence to prove that Yuri had most likely come to the trail with its cliff in mind. Yuri wouldn't purposefully run somewhere that was full of allergens just for the sake of running. Probably.

Victor slammed into the ambulance.

"Ow! Holy— oh, my— _ow_!" he exclaimed, clutching the shoulder that had been rammed into the solid vehicle's side. He rolled onto his back and sat up, cradling the arm attached to his injured shoulder in his lap.

He had been so lost in thought that he didn't even realize he had breached the edge of the forest, resulting in his running right into the ambulance. He landed in a heap on the concrete road, monetarily stunned. The small vehicle in front of him shook with the force of his accidental body slamming skills, and he heard shocked cries of the driver and other nurses on board.

He heard the driver land heavily on the concrete road, but all Victor could see was the quick steps of the legs visible through the gap between the concrete and the bottom of the vehicle. When the legs finally made it around the ambulance, they stopped. The driver, a tall man with a sweating problem, stared at down Victor for a second.

"Uh… can I help you?" the man asked uncertainly.

"Sorry. About the crashing into your ambulance thing." Victor blurted out. "But I have to get on this ambulance. I have to stay with Yuri. That's the boy who fell down the cliff— his name is Yuri— Katsuki Yuri. And I can't leave him. I left him once. I can't do it again. I can't. Please." Victor babbled in a strained voice, a lump in his throat restricting him from speaking easily. He really needed to get a handle on this "babbling deep, dark emotions to strangers" thing.

The driver shrugged in an " _eh, what the heck"_ manner and gestured for Victor to follow him. Victor picked himself up off the hard ground with a grimace, groaning as his tired limbs protested his moving. The man threw open the back doors where Sakura sat fiddling with different bags of different coloured liquids. Interesting. Sakura glanced up when the doors opened.

"Oh. Hey." Recognition glinted is Sakura's eyes. "You're the kid who dug this one out. Great job on that climbing the cliff thing, by the way. First time I had to climb something that high, I cried. And fell." Sakura said, reaching out a hand to Victor. "Come in, I told them we had to wait for you, but she—" Sakura jerked a thumb in the direction of the terrified looking woman that sat in the passenger seat up by the driver."— wouldn't let us. She said we had to _get going now_." Sakura shook her head as Victor accepted the helping hand and sat down next to her on what looked like a padded bench that was nailed to the wall of the ambulance. "Sorry about that, nice touch with the slamming into the ambulance, though. Kind of crazy, but you can't knock it if it works, right?" Sakura smiled winningly as the driver glared at her. Victor leaned over Yuri, examining his friend. The boy was covered with several thick blankets, the only visible skin being his face, that was mostly covered with an oxygen mask of clear plastic that fogged with every breath Yuri breathed out. Victor found it fascinating to watch and continued to stare at the mask, monitoring his friend's breathing as the vehicle lurched into drive.

"Are we just picking up violent strays now?" the nurse in the passenger seat asked. Victor didn't respond and kept his focus purely on Yuri.

"Shut up." Sakura snapped, her firecracker personality shining. Victor's lip twitched as if in an attempt to smile, but the warm, rushing urge to grin vanished. He felt cold with worry and overburdened with the weight of guilt once more.

Turning her attention back to Yuri, Sakura pulled the boy's arm out from under the warm protection that the thick blankets offered and laid it across her lap. She began wiping up and down, all over the skin before spraying it and wiping it again in an obsessive pattern, claiming it was all necessary. Victor thought she might be a little OCD. Then the nurse then went on a spiel about infections from improperly cleaned skin and unsterile equipment that made Victor glad the nurse was OCD. It would suck for Yuri to get this far just to die from tetanus or something.

When Yuri's arm was cleaned to her satisfaction, Sakura hardly looked at the drawer of needles she yanked open before selecting one and she began working it into his skin.

"Should you do that in a moving vehicle?" Victor muttered sluggishly. Sakura glared at him as if questioning her was blasphemy. She hung the bag of fluid that was steadily entering Yuri's bloodstream from a tall, metal rod that stood connected to the bed Yuri lay on and warned Victor not to touch it, as if Victor would do anything to interfere his friend's healing. Sakura then sat by Yuri's head and began cleaning a large gash there. There was a horrible wound that reached from his temple, across a portion of his forehead and ended somewhere in his mass of soft brown hair. It was oozing blood that was so dark it looked a frightening black.

"Don't worry, head wounds always bleed this much." Sakura spoke up, interrupting the driver who had started rambling about his kids and wife back at home, which was probably an attempt to keep Victor calm. Victor normally would have found it somewhat annoying or demeaning that a grown man thought he had to comfort another grown man by talking about his wife's favourite flowers and what instruments his children played. Oddly enough, Victor enjoyed listening to the cheerful, one-sided conversation. Victor hardly heard the nurse as she continued on talking, explaining the causes and effects of blunt force trauma to the head… or something. Victor couldn't really hear anything through the obnoxious buzzing in his head.

"And don't worry too much about the colour, his blood isn't black because it's infected or anything scary like that. It's just the clotting that changes the colour, though there's a bit of mud in here as well."

"Can he… will he… is he gonna be…?" Victor asked in a small voice.

"When we get him to the hospital, we'll be able to rule out a few things, like possible brain damage, but so far he has a pretty mild concussion, a twisted ankle, some broken fingers, a few bumps and bruises, a touch of moderate hypothermia and a few cracked ribs. It sounds like a laundry list, but it's really not that bad, considering the fall he went through. I'd guess that cliff was eight feet at least, maybe more." Sakura answered, shrugging at the possible inaccuracy of her estimate. Victor's jaw dropped.

"Brain damage?" Victor asked weakly, the word echoing throughout his brain.

"There is a very broad scale of effects that brain damage can have on the body. Your friend could just forget a few things, or struggle with memory as a whole. He could have headaches frequently or get dizzy easily. Also…."

"Also?" Victor prompted, having the feeling that he wasn't going to like what the nurse had to say next. Sakura shifted, biting her lip anxiously.

"Well, he might have impairments." She stated vaguely. Victor blinked.

"Such as?" Sakura sighed at this and continued, albeit grudgingly.

"He might not be able to walk on his own. Or breath on his own, which means he will have to have a machine breathing for him. He might not be able to speak, or understand speech. He might have vision or hearing problems that he didn't have before… there's a very broad spectrum."

He might not be able to walk on his own? That means he won't be able to skate. Not skate? Skating was everything to Yuri! Yuri couldn't go two days without skating— which was proven when Victor found him in the bathroom with a knife. Two days! If he can't handle two days, how was he supposed to handle an entire lifetime? Feeling as if he just destroyed his friend's happiness and quality of life, Victor stared at the ground. His mind was racing with blame for himself and remorse for his friend until he caught up with the rest of what Sakura had said about the cliff.

"Wait, did you say eight feet or more? It really didn't seem…" Victor trailed off, feeling a bit lightheaded. He didn't even like heights, how had he not noticed how high the stupid cliff was? People die from eight-foot falls! They break every bone in their body! How had Victor not noticed?

"You were probably more focused on helping your friend and getting him out as soon as possible than you were on how high a cliff he fell off of." Sakura smiled understandingly, patting his arm gently. Victor shook his head.

"But I… I _jumped_ … I jumped down there to get to him— shouldn't I have felt that?" Victor asked, mind shooting back to the moment he found Yuri. Victor remembered seeing a massive pile of dirt and rocks when he had come across the cliff, almost tumbling down it himself. He didn't find the cliff to be too strange. It could've been the cause of a simple mudslide from a rainstorm, or a discontinued attempt at clearing the land. It wasn't until he saw the bright blue of a familiar jacket when he realized what had happened. That jacket was one that matched his own. It was a skater's jacket. Without thinking, Victor had thrown his legs over the lip of the cliff and started sliding down feet first. He hadn't even thought about how steep the cliff was or about the fact that there were very pointy rocks at the bottom. Or the fact that pointy rocks hurt.

"Maybe it was the adrenaline rush? Or simply the amount of energy put into focusing on someone else's life that stopped you from recognizing the cliff for the height it had?" Sakura suggested, shrugging again. "There are several possibilities. Maybe height just doesn't bother you. If you had a fear of heights, you would have definitely noticed how high it was. Do you work or do a lot of things that you have to be high up for?" Sakura asked. Victor stared at her. This nurse really had no idea who he was. He really thought that, sense his coming to Japan, almost every citizen would at least recognize him.

"Ah, no. No, I'm a skater. We both are— I'm his teacher." Victor explained.

"Ice skating, huh? Can't say I saw that coming. Male modeling, sure. Lead singer to a band, maybe. But ice skating…." Sakura's eyes traveled up and down Victor's body. Victor blinked owlishly. "No. What about a male ballerina?" she suggested. Victor must have made a strange face because she burst out into loud, snorting laughter. "I guess not then! Do you have something against ballerinas? I'll have you know, my nine-year-old neice is a ballerina, so you better not bad-mouth ballet…." Sakura warned with a playful scowl.

"Not my thing." Victor shrugged. The more he talked with this chatty woman, the more connected with reality he felt. The less his thoughts and emotions felt like endless, dark storms that threatened to trap him in his mind forever. Or something. "Yuri did." Victor smiled fondly. "He asked a friend for help. She's a ballet instructor. He wanted to look more fema— uh, graceful, for skating. Another friend of mine took ballet lessons to help with his skating. It's a little too up-tight for my liking. Too many rules and restrictions. Ice skating is… free." Victor shrugged, not truly knowing how to explain the difference between skating and ballet. He felt his short, snipped sentences to be uncomfortable. It was as if he was watching someone else talking from his own mouth. "You'd think that I would love both, seeing how similar they are in both structure and poise." He added, attempting to speak in normal, fluent sentences. The nurse nodded before turning her attention back to Yuri.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked suddenly.

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine. Better. Good." Victor grinned in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He was pretty sure it was more of a grimace than an actual smile, though.

Victor was exhausted. His arms and legs burned with an aching throb from his endless digging. He had been so cold he thought he might turn into a popsicle, and now it felt like his inside were burning up. But he couldn't bear to complain. At least he was conscious. At least he wasn't bleeding. At least he wasn't so dehydrated he needed water injections or whatever the heck the nurse said she was pumping into Yuri's veins. Victor focused on the soft voice of the ambulance driver who had gone from talking about his wife and kids to explaining in detail his first adventure with driving a vehicle with a manual clutch. Victor wasn't paying too much attention to the words, as he was the sounds of speech, but it sounded like the adventure hadn't gone well. He felt his thoughts slowing, his body calming with the effects of the soft voice.

The nurse had demanded that he allow her to stick an IV of warm fluids in his arm and continued to yell at him every now and then throughout the drive, reminding him not to sleep. Victor had to admit that he felt better with the liquid heaven was running through his body, warming him inside out like a microwave. He was more concerned, however, about his rapidly deteriorating eyesight though. Colours smeared like a paintbrush dragged water through a painting, and objects blurred like a camera out of focus.

"Oh look, there's the hospital!" Sakura exclaimed, pointing enthusiastically at a tall, mostly glass building that had a huge sign surrounded by trimmed trees and attractive flowers. Victor jerked out of his sleepy haze and followed her pointing finger,

"Hope and Healing Hospital?" Victor asked, grimacing as he read the sign.

"Yeah, hospitals tend to have dumb names. Like Grace and Mercy Healing Centre on the other side of town." Sakura said, acknowledging Victor's scrutiny over the hospital's name.

"What's a _Healing_ _Centre_?" Victor sniffed as if the name were a disgusting thing. This had Sakura laughing as she stood to help get Yuri out of the back of the vehicle. The ambulance's driver had tugged the double doors open both he and the two nurses began to drag out the bed Yuri lay on, where he was still tied to the board.

"My thoughts exactly." Sakura responded. "Okay, sir. We're going to take your friend in for examination, we'll run a few tests and then someone will be out to tell you what we find. There are a few medical forms we'd like you to fill out in the waiting room if you could." Sakura began guiding Victor away from Yuri, who was being pushed speedily through a set of doors that said "Emergency" in bold red letters. Realizing that in order for Yuri to get better, Victor had to let him go, he allowed himself to be practically dragged over to a smaller set of doors that claimed to be the entrance, where he was introduced to the gross smell of sterilized equipment and sanitizer. Everything was white, with the exception of the deep blue waiting room chairs that looked stiff and uninviting. The lighting was blinding and made Victor's already pounding headache even worse. He already missed Yuri. And it hadn't even been five minutes yet. This dependency was starting to freak Victor out.

"You said you are a family member, am I correct?" Sakura's voice snapped Victor out of his childish yearning. "Could you state your relation to the patient?" Sakura asked, stepping over to a desk where she received a stack of papers pinned to a clipboard from a frazzled looking woman with a trash basket full of empty paper coffee cups.

"Oh, no, I'm not a blood relative— oh, my goodness, I haven't called his parents! They must be so worried!" Victor practically shouted, scrambling to find his phone. He remembered dropping it onto the forest ground but he couldn't remember ever picking it up or— there! Yanking the device out of his pocket as soon as his searching fingers grazed the cool plastic, Victor accepted a clipboard of papers and a pen from Sakura who asked a few quick questions about allergies and medical conditions that Yuri might have. After discovering that Victor had no idea what Yuri was allergic to, Sakura promised to be back soon and sped down one of the many hallways lined with doors. Victor stuffed the papers under his arm and sluggishly began to dial the well-known number, sinking stiffly down into a deep blue arm chair. His fingers were slow and stiff, their joints aching as he struggled to type the number into his phone.

"Victor?" a strangled, breathless voice asked. Victor cursed himself for waiting this long to call. Mrs. Katsuki sounded worried and borderline panicky. His heart ached for the woman who was like a second mother to him.

"Yes, Mrs. Katsuki? I found Yuri. He was in the forest. You should come to the hospital. They say he'll be okay but they still have tests to run… he fell while hiking or running or something…." Victor scrubbed a hand down his weary face. "Look, I'm sorry for not calling sooner, it was a bit difficult to get him… to the ambulance…." Victor wasn't sure how much he should tell the family before they drove to the hospital and how much he should relay in person.

 _Hello, your only son fell off a cliff (whether it was an accident or a planned suicide attempt is yet to be discovered), was buried under a mountain of rock and dirt for over twelve hours, and now has cracked ribs, broken fingers, hypothermia, a concussion and possible brain damage which could range from frequent headaches to him being unable to walk or breathe on his own and therefore relying on a machine to inject his lungs with oxygen and sit in a bed until the end of his much shorter, much more miserable life. Drive safely._

"We're on our way." Yuri's father answered. Either the phone was on speaker and Yuri's father was just the quickest to respond, or Mrs. Katsuki was so overtaken with her emotions that she couldn't manage to speak and had to hand the phone to her husband. The phone made a deep click, the telltale sign of being hung up on. Victor set the phone on the arm of his chair and hunched over the paperwork on his lap

 _Name. Age. Date of birth. Height and weight. Allergies…._

 _Family members. Phone numbers of each member. Age and date of birth of each member. Conditions/allergies of each member…_

Victor answered the first few pages of questions easily enough. He knew that Katsuki family would be too tired and scared to be able to think about tedious forms and never-ending questions, so he tried his hand at filling out as much as he knew. He wanted to help. It was the least he could do.

Also, answering questions kept him alert and didn't allow for him to slip back into the hazy daze of confusion he had been in while Yuri was being pulled out of a cliff and treated in the ambulance. He wasn't sure if he was legally able to fill the forms out since he wasn't a blood family member, but Sakura handed him the forms and told him to fill them out, so he went along with it.

 _Family and patient history, check all that apply and list family member/patient as the afflicted._

Victor's usefulness and ability to fill forms might end here.

o _Angina_

o _Coronary artery disease_

o _Anxiety_

o _Allergies_

o _Blood clots_

o _Arthritis_

o _Atrial fibrillation_

o _Benign prostatic hypertrophy_

o _Cerebrovascular accident_

o _Anemia_

Victor's eyes widened as the list continued through depression and diabetes to every type of disease in existence, including several conditions involving seizures and "migraine headaches." Deficiencies like hearing loss or simpler ones, like the common need for prescription glasses were also listed, as were an alarming slew of addictions to substances like illegal drugs, alcohol and prescription medication. Several debilitating diseases like Alzheimer's and Parkinson's were on there as well and some diseases, such as Bronchitis, had the words "types" in parentheses.

Victor let the pen fall onto his stack of papers and dropped his face into his hand, which was propped up by the elbow on the arm of the chair. He was exhausted. Overwhelmed. The panic, the searching, the tears, the self-blame, the digging, the pain, the ache, the questions— it was too much.

And it was all his fault.

 **AN:**

 **119 is the emergency call line for ambulances/fire trucks in Japan, according to Wikipedia.**

 **Also, I feel like the family of someone who dealt with depression/cutting/suicidal thoughts and tendencies would not really be able to say the words at first. Saying "My son is a cutter" or "My mom is suicidal" or "I have depression" is really hard, I know personally. I find it hard to say these kinds of things and the people I know who are afflicted have been so for decades. I'm assuming that other families are like this, too. Let me know if you feel differently. How do you talk about these kinds of issues? Do you talk about these issues at all? I need to know— it's for the good of the story!**

 **I struggled with Victor in this. I tried to make him seem a bit detached with reality with his thoughts just everywhere, kind of retreating into his own mind, but I think I just made him come off as stupid. Oops.**


	6. Sleeping Beauty

**AN:**

 **This is just edited, it came to my attention that a year and a half coma is ridiculously long, so I chopped it down to 3 months (big change, I know. It would be even shorter, realistically, but we all know I'm too much of a drama queen to pass up a long coma). Let me know if I missed anything or if parts don't make sense, but I'm 99.9% certain that I fixed it all.**

 **Okie-dokie, let's do this**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice.**

 **This is the… fourth part of— oh whatever, this is just a really long delivery of a really good prompt, okay? I'm going to quit trying to measure how long this theme with the coma accident thing is because it just fits so well into the story as a whole that I think it's a perfect continuation.**

 **Enough nonsensical blabbing, let's go— I hope you enjoy this chapter, even if it's a tad bit short (it just ended on such a great teaser that I couldn't bear to go any farther)!**

CH6- Sleeping Beauty

Months past in a blur of white pages that fluttered and ripped off as quickly as the wind could blow them. Seasons were not much different. Fall's bright leaves, homey cinnamon treats, apple picking and pumpkin carving flew by. Winter brought heavy, fluffy snows and several outbreaks of the common cold that ran rampant through hospitals, schools and heavily employed business corporations. Spring was full of colourful flowers, dewy grass and singing birds in cool, fresh air. Summer was as hot as always, the typical cheery windchimes jingling and tinkling as watermelon and ice cream were sold on streets. The sun rose and set, bringing with it bright and violent smears of colours, and its counterpart, the moon, brought the gentle, still night sky and glittering jewels when the sun slept.

And Victor saw it all through the surprisingly large hospital window in a bright white, sterile room where everything gleamed and the air burned his nose. He sat in the same rock-hard chair with its straight back and deep blue cushions, or he moped of to the side in the window seat. Yes, the hospital was luxurious enough to have lumpy pillows plopped on the hard wood that served as a seat in front of a window. Victor took advantage of this luxury and spent most of his time lounging across the seat, his body aching and knotting and burning. He'd stare out the window with a passive face, looking more like a ghost than a man. When it was cold enough, his breath would fog the glass and sometimes he would trace his fingertips through the misty fog made on the chilly window. He wrote pretty words. He drew simple pictures. He made hopeful wishes. Wishes from the ghost of the man he used to be. How melodramatic.

If he wanted to brighten the mood, sometimes Victor played music. Bright pop tunes, soothing classical or mellow jazz. Things that were meant to calm or bring joy. It was rather hard to hear the music over the steady beat of the heart monitor, sometimes, but Victor had become accustom to the metronome-like rhythm. That pulsing beat was, for a while, the only music Victor required. He used to look to it for reassurance like a lost man turned to his God in need or prayer. Victor saw that heart monitor as constant proof of the life that flowed through the friend that looked quite dead.

However, lately he found it to be more annoying. He felt as if it were mocking him. Showing a strong heartbeat, which meant that the body was healing. Promising him that everything would be okay, then yanking those perfect promises away as soon as he remembered. As soon as he remembered the "disabilities." As soon as he remembered the "mental problems," "the memory loss" and the "we'll know more if he wakes up." But mostly, he remembered the "if." "If" he wakes up. _If_. Everyone said "if." As if there was some kind of question to whether or not the most important person in Victor's world would wake up.

Victor couldn't bring himself to believe an "if." He had to believe "when" and "soon" and "any day now." The things he had been feeding himself all these months. The things that have been keeping him alive all this time. The things he parroted to the Katsuki family, who was slowly losing hope as the days dragged on. The Katsuki family told him that it was great to be hopeful. It was wonderful that he believed. But they also said to be realistic. To be ready. Just in case something went wrong. And now Victor wasn't even sure what he believed in anymore. He wasn't sure he could believe at all anymore. He'd spent so much time arguing with doctors and nurses and surgeons. He fought off their apologies like they were swords at battle and his mind strained to warp their pessimistic views with optimism.

They said "the longer he stays in the coma, the more likely long-term brain damage is." But Victor's mind changed those word into "the longer he stays in the coma, it's possible he will have more brain damage, but we don't know yet. He could have no problems at all and yet here we are losing faith in his strength and stubbornness."

They said "you should prepare yourself, there may be more damage than we think. He may not wake up." But Victor heard "be prepared for this coma to last a lot longer. Prepare yourself for when he wakes up, though— he'll need you."

It was very difficult to keep a positive outlook on things when pessimism and reality kept slapping him right in the face. Normally, Victor was the King of positivity. But a King is nothing without his Queen.

Victor's chin was resting on his hand, which was propped up lazily by the elbow on the sill of the window, where he sat leaning against the cool glass. He stared blankly at the people below. A woman with a bright red scarf and a man with a tan trench coat both held coffees in one hand, and a shared black umbrella in the other as they ambled down the sidewalk in the early morning drizzle. A child in rainbow rubber boots held an older girl's hand tightly and jumped with both feet into large puddles, making the older girl grin and shield her face with mitten wearing hands. A man in a rain stained dress shirt ran past, holding a large black briefcase over his head, his long black coat flapping impressively like a magician's cloak.

Victor people watched. A lot. It was a new thing for him. Watching people. People he neither knew, nor cared about. Random children with their older sisters, holding hands and jumping in puddles, well-dressed couples sipping from coffees, and late businessmen who always forget their umbrellas. The latter, Victor found, was much more common than he expected.

He watched drearily as the rain poured down, and he followed the trails the droplets took as they landed on the glass. It rained all the time.

All.

The.

Time.

It was winter.

It was _December_.

It was _supposed_ to be snowing. Victor was torn between relief and irritation. Despite his love for ice and the recreation it brings, Victor had never been too partial to snow. He learned how to like it, though, but only because his student was ridiculously obsessed with it.

Victor swallowed hard. The lapse of unfeeling that sparked thoughts of his friend had passed, and he was back to gazing outside, feeling empty.

Again.

Empty because he saw the world spinning, but he himself stood still.

Empty because when they laughed and cried, he could only stare blankly, face devoid of any emotion.

Empty because every face and voice and thing in the world was full of life and colour, and Victor felt as grey and still as the boy lying in a month long coma.

Festivals and holidays that were important, not only to the Katsuki family (especially their youngest son. Seriously, don't get between that boy and his holidays), but also to the culture and people they loved and celebrated had also passed. Most were holidays that Victor didn't understand, but that didn't matter. He wouldn't celebrate until the coma was shattered. He wouldn't enjoy anything until his friend was back. Until his other half was _there_ again.

1 month. Victor didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

1.

31 days.

Please hurry. Please wake up. Please.

" _Yuri_ …."

"Victor, do you want us to get you anything from the cafeteria?"

Victor didn't look away from the window. He was sitting in the stiff blue chair by the hospital bed, rubbing a corner of the scratchy white blanket between his fingers as if to convince himself that what he felt, and heard, and saw was real. Mrs. Katsuki. She kept trying to feed him. Kept trying to get him to sleep. He didn't respond to the soft, maternal voice, but turned his head away and fixed his eyes on the wall above the headboard of the bed.

There was a heavy sigh from across the room. This one sound deeper than the feminine voice. A strong hand rested gently on his head for a moment. He could tell it was Mr. Katsuki based of the undertone of forest he could smell. Mr. Katsuki. He kept trying to comfort Victor with fatherly hugs. Kept giving Victor words of encouragement. Victor had to admit, though, that it was nice. It was warm.

When Victor heard the shuffling of feet exit the door that swung shut with a hushed click, he glanced up. Through the narrow window set in the door, he saw the backs of the couple. They were talking to each other, clearly passionate about the subject. He only heard a few things that filtered through the thick door.

"…. Our son, but—"

"…lost more than us…"

"… worried…. If he doesn't…."

"… heal…. Eventually…"

Victor felt like he was spying on the adults who were whispering about things that were inappropriate for little childrens' ears. Victor turned his head away from the door as sluggishly as he had when he turned to face it. He stared back at the blanket he was now clenching between two fingers. He gripped the cloth so tightly his fisted hand whitened and trembled. He took a shaky breath, rubbing his free hand over his eyes before leaning down and resting his head on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes, meaning only to rest them for a bit, but when he opened them and his gaze met the white ceiling above, the room was dark. He turned his head to see the window's curtains were still pushed back, but instead of a rainy city, they showed a black sky brightened only by a gentle glow cast from the stars and the moon. He felt oddly warm and when he rolled over, he found himself lying on the broad, stiff hospital bed next to the sleeping patient. Victor briefly wondered whether the correct term to describe a coma patient was with the word "sleep." He squinted at the random thought and wriggled closer, snuggling like a puppy against his friend. He shut his burning, tired eyes again and breathed peacefully for the first time in…

2 months.

 _and counting…._

He wasn't sure how he felt about visitors. He hardly tolerated the Katsuki family coming in. It bothered him for reasons he couldn't understand. He thought it was somewhat… rude? He didn't announce the discontent that fizzled his nerves and burned his skin, but it still felt…. And it was strange, too. Their child was in a coma. It made perfect sense that they would want to see him. Victor was actually supposed to be standing on the other side of the line. He was supposed to be standing where the Katsuki family was. He was supposed to be begging the distraught family to let him see his friend. But instead, he was sitting with his friend, wishing the parents— who had every right to see their child— would leave. It was ridiculous. Victor didn't actually turn the Katsuki family away, he feared death-by-Mari, should he ever do that. He also knew it was completely unfair and childish of him to hog his friend and deny the sister and parents. So, Victor grew up and grew a pair.

And, if he didn't like the Katsuki family visiting, he _really_ didn't like when his fellow skaters did. Visits from the skaters were the first thing that elicited an emotion in Victor in a long time.

Phichit was one of the first of Yuri's friends that came to visit. He had brought a huge colourful bouquet of flowers in a tall vase of multi-coloured glass which he set on the bedside table before falling into dramatics. The boy fell to his knees by the bed, and grabbed Yuri's hand, clasping it to his chest. He started rambling on about how dear a friend Yuri was. He prayed that Yuri would be healed. He spoke of hopes that Yuri would wake up without pain or suffering.

He started talking about random things, telling stories of his life and the things he and Yuri shared a love for. He talked about cool mornings with bright golden sunrises and dew-covered grass. He talked about skating and the joy and relief they both got from it. He talked about the thrill of competition and the warm feeling of success. He talked about eating at a big table, surrounded by countless friends and family, and spending holidays with people they loved. Then he bowed his head over the limp hand he still held and started sobbing.

Just like that.

Big, fat, rolling tears.

Everywhere.

With the sniffing and the whimpering and the groaning and everything. Victor stared at him with bewildered confusion before chucking a box of tissues, which landed on the bed next to the sobbing skater. Phichit let out a warbling thank you and began cleaning up his tear stained face. Then he got up, muttered a soft good-bye and exited the room. Victor continued to stare at the door after Phichit had left and blinked in confusion. He glanced back at the bed, which was now sporting tear stains and wrinkles on its sheets.

What just happened.

It was a week later, when Christophe came, his big green eyes were dry as a desert, which was unexpected. Victor thought that Chris was pretty emotional, despite the good head he had on his shoulders. He knocked softly, asking for entrance. Upon hearing no response to his knock, Christophe cracked the door open and peeked his head in.

"May I?" Chris asked politely. Victor jerked a shoulder up and let it fall down again. A wordless, elegant show of "whatever." Christophe, however, grinned brightly, though his sparkling eyes were a bit dim. He was much quieter and more respectful than Victor remembered him being. It was probably due to the situation at hand, however. Victor was sitting on the window seat again, his back facing the door and the bed. He glanced over his shoulder, turning slightly to watch Christophe settled down in the awful blue chair and stare down at Yuri. He reached out, as if to touch Yuri, but aborted the motion when his fingers were only centimeters away. His hand hovered over Yuri's face, but eventually dropped onto his own lap. For a good hour or more, Christophe simply sat there. Staring at Yuri.

Eventually, he got up and walked over to Victor. Victor moved to stand, his exhausted mind still being able to process social norms and preform respectful manners. Christophe raised a hand to stop the clearly compromised Victor from getting up, a small smile playing at his lips. He then reached a hand out and gently squeezed Victor's shoulder.

An act of comfort.

For Victor.

This left Victor confused and staring at Christophe in bewilderment even when the other skater had long left the room. Victor returned his staring out the window.

The rain had lifted. There was a rainbow outside.

The triplets were wild.

Their mother was apologetic, her hair a bit scraggly and her clothes slightly rumpled, but she had the same sweet smile. The triplets had jumped up beside Yuri, helping each other haul their little bodies onto the tall bed. They babbled rapid fire at Yuri, despite that fact that he couldn't respond and may not even be able to hear.

"Victor, it's going to be okay." Yuuko offered, softly. Victor continued to stare out the window, pretending to not be able to hear her. "Victor?" He could tell Yuuko was closer. There was a gentle touch on his shoulder. "Victor, he's going to wake up, you have to believe—" Victor finally shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. Yuuko sighed.

"We brought him flowers. I hope that's okay." Yuuko tried again. Victor shrugged, still not facing Yuri's close friend. He heard another sigh and found himself to be severely irritated by the sound. He just wanted to be alone in the room with silence and Yuri. He heard Yuuko walk away and the tell-tale clink of glass settling on a hard surface. Someone must have put a vase down on the bedside table. Hushed good-byes were said and high-pitched complaints from three little girls erupted. Eventually, Yuuko managed to collect her children and get them out of the room, leaving behind a short, clear vase of colourful daises standing tall.

Almost a week and a half after the triplets visited, Minami graced the hospital with his presence. The normally perky and bubbly Minami was a tornado. He was easily spotted by the crimson dye in his otherwise dirty blonde hair, but his voice was telling as well. The boy was blubbering before he even got in the room. Minami burst into the room suddenly, not knocking or even bothering to close the door, which Victor later got up and did himself. Minami's face was curled into the most distraught and broken expression imaginable, and his big eyes were shining full of tears. The skater raced across the room and literally threw himself on top of Yuri (Victor was seeing a trend here), sobbing his little heart out (so many trends). Victor watched him out of the corner of his wide-open eyes, finding the behaviour and volume to both be quite disorienting. Victor wanted to rip the hysterical child off of his injured friend, but the poor kid sounded… broken wasn't a strong enough word. Shattered, maybe?

After several tearful confessions and apologies that made Victor both confused and even more uncomfortable, Minami turned to Victor. Like a cat stalking its prey, the small skater slunk across the room, his eyes watching Victor closely, as if he were gauging the situation or Victor's mood. Upon reaching Victor, the boy stared up at him for a moment. And then he threw his arms around Victor's torso. Victor tensed, finding himself very uncomfortable with the sudden intimacy. He reigned in both his surprise and his flailing arms in order to awkwardly pat the smaller skater's trembling back.

Eventually Minami pulled back, wiping at his eyes with his fists, obviously irritated with his tears. Seeing that the boy was all but impaling his eyes with his fists, Victor grasped one of those fists and pulled it away from Minami's face. He plucked a tissue from the quickly depleting box that sat on the table at the end of Yuri's bed and pushed it into Minami's clenched hand. Minami looked stunned for a half a second, but then looked up at Victor and grinned in thanks. He then turned his attention from Victor and focused on cleaning himself up. He straightened his clothes, which had rumpled from his hugging and emotional train wrecking, and gave his face one last swipe of a tissue before trudging over to the door. He glanced behind himself, casting a sad smile at Victor, then stepped out into the hall, this time closing the door behind himself.

Yurio. Dearest, pleasant, eloquent Yurio. Victor forgot how much he enjoyed Yurio's company. He forgot how much he missed his friend. Just like with Minami, Victor could hear Yurio before the skater even entered the room. Victor was snapped out of his lazy "people watching in the windowsill" routine by the sound of pounding feet. He heard a few exclamations in his native tongue that perked his attention and poked at his ego, when he realized the exclamations were directed at himself.

The footsteps suddenly stopped in front of the door leading into the room that Victor had moved into. Victor practically lived in the hospital now. The Katsukis had brought him a bag of clothes, toiletries and personal belongings a few months ago, finally giving in to the fact that Victor wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon. They brought meals that went mostly untouched, and books, or earbuds, or anything else they thought he might need. Even the nurses were in on it and would often sneak him snacks on their breaks. He appreciated those more than the packed lunches from Mrs. Katsuki, though he had no idea why. Also, Victor was pretty sure it was illegal for the family of a patient to live in the hospital for over a year. Actually, seeing as he had managed to tap into the hospital's pretty stellar wifi, he _knew_ that it was illegal. But he didn't push it. He was just glad he didn't have to leave.

There was a soft, but insistent knock.

Victor cocked his head at the door. Yurio normally slammed open any door in his way without asking for permission first, or he knocked louder than a thunderclap to announce his presence. As usual, Victor didn't respond and the door creaked open. A red faced Yurio stood in the doorway with a backpack slung over his shoulder and his skates bag in one hand. The poor boy looked horribly conflicted, glancing back and forth between Yuri on the bed and Victor who was still sitting on the window seat. Realizing that Yurio was asking for permission, Victor nodded, not taking his eyes off his friend's odd colouring.

Dropping all his bags with a sudden thud, Yurio raced over to the bed and skidded to a halt just before he collided with it. He reached out both hands to the bed and laid them softly on the edge, as if he was worried that touching the bed would somehow hurt the patient. Upon realizing that he was allowed to touch the bed, Yurio advanced to squeezing the blanket's edges with both fists. He stood facing Victor, where others had come around the bed to stand by the blue chair, their back to Victor. Being able to see all of the emotions flitting across Yurio's face made Victor's heart twinge. He took a deep breath, willing the sudden pain away.

Yurio looked… distraught. Which was surprising. Victor knew that Yurio didn't hate Yuri, it was obvious that he saw him as some sort of threat or rival, but there was not true hatred between them. It was more of a quarrel that brothers shared, than fighting between enemies.

It wasn't until he saw the tears that he really got concerned.

"Yur…" Victor started softly. Yurio looked up at him suddenly, as if having forgotten that there was a third person in the room. Victor rose as he saw Yurio's already distressing expression increase dramatically into the face of someone who has seen true horror. Upon realizing Victor was starting to stand, Yurio backed peddled quickly. His hands were in front of his body, a defensive measure, and he was shaking his head frantically.

Victor stepped closer, his hands outspread as if to show that he wasn't armed or about to attack. Yurio had now backed himself into a corner, looking like a trapped animal. While confused and slightly…. freaked out, Victor continued to advance across the room. He made it across the room and stopped inches away from Yurio, who was audibly sobbing by now.

"What…." Victor trailed off, unable to continue.

"I don't know, I don't know, _I_ _don't_ _know!_ " Yurio sank to the ground, his hands covering his face as his chant got louder and hoarser. "I just… I heard what happened and…. I heard that… you think he… and I just…" Victor quirked an eyebrow, attempting to follow the conversation. He finally gave up and reached out to a still cowering Yurio who scrambled back further as Victor came closer. "No…. no, I can't. I can't be selfish— I _can't_." Yurio sounded as if he was talking more to himself than to Victor.

"Yurio." Victor said, using the nickname that he knew Yurio didn't mind as much as he let on. Glancing up at Victor with wide, wet eyes, Yurio reached an arm out hesitantly, like a life-line he was praying would be accepted and not pushed away. Victor captured the stretched hand and plopped down on the floor, pulling Yurio into his arms. He squeezed his close friend as tight as possible, dragging Yurio practically across his lap. Victor's shoulder began to dampen, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Seeing Yurio begin to shiver, whether it was from the cold or not Victor coaxed Yurio off the cold, hard floor and they both squished onto the bed on either side of Yuri, their hands holding across Yuri.

"Hey…. Victor?" Yurio asked timidly. Timid. That was not a word that Victor— that anyone who knew Yurio for more than three seconds— would use to describe Yurio. "Why the aдa aren't there any skates in here?" Yurio demanded in a suddenly much moodier voice that resembled more of the Yurio that Victor knew and loved.

"… skates?" Victor asked, not following. Yurio gave Victor a blank looked that clearly said " _are you kidding me_." Then Yurio pushed himself off the bed, scrambling to his feet, marching purposefully over to the bags he dropped in the doorway. He knelt down and began rummaging through the long black bag. Victor stepped over to him and curiously peeked over his friend's shoulder.

"What are you…?" Victor was cut off when Yurio spun around like a whirlwind, a sharp object suddenly pointing at Victor's face. A pair of black ice skates.

"Yuri can't stay somewhere without skates. He has to have skates." Yurio glared as if daring Victor to say something in protest. Victor raised his arms in surrender and backed up. Yurio hugged the skates closely and marched importantly over to the bedside table with the several colourful vases. Upon seeing that there was no space on the table because of how much room the vases took up, he lay the skates on the bed. He then grabbed the vases of flowers and removed them from the table, placing them gently on the table on the end of the bed. Yurio gently scooped up his skates almost tenderly, and set them on the bedside table. With one last pat to the beloved shoes, Yurio turned to the reason he had come. Yuri.

Yurio seemed to have gained the courage to touch the sleeping boy and stretched out a trembling hand to clutch the fabric of Yuri's hospital gown sleeve. Victor couldn't hear what Yurio was whispering under his breath, but it sounded like the words "stupid" and "idiot" in their native tongue. Yurio's hand then traveled across the Yuri to rest on the still boy's chest, which moved gently with his breathing. Yurio seemed to be counting the breaths, the heart beats, every minimal twitch of the finger. A few moments of regulating vitals and Yurio turned toward Victor one more time. He reached up and clenched his fist, pulling silvery strands of hair. He jerked Victor's head close so that they're foreheads almost touched. Victor flinched, instinctively grabbing the elbow of the hand that was tugging on his hair.

"Keep me updated. Tell me everything. About him, about you, about his family— everything. Every detail or every moment. Text me. Call me. Whatever you have to do." Yurio demanded in a sharp voice. Victor nodded tightly, wincing as the slight movement pulled on his hair. Yurio seemed satisfied and released his grip, combing through the hair he had just tangled, as if in apology. He then gathered his two bags and kissed his fingertips, reaching out those same fingers to touch the skates, then Yuri's forehead, and he marched out the door.

That was strange.

3 months. 92 days.

Victor was so done. He was beyond done. He was laying upside down on the awful blue chair, his legs dangling over the back of the chair and his head hanging off the end. He clucked his tongue to the rhythm of the heart monitor that was progressively becoming more annoying by the second. He felt like he was going to die. Of sheer boredom.

He was stressed first. And exhausted from all the visiting skaters and families. He was panicking every five minutes and broke down in tears every half hour. At one point, he hugged Yuri's body for over four hours in a row, sobbing onto the boy's shoulder. He paced every inch of the room, learned how to give someone a sponge bath and administered medication to his unconscious friend because the nurses had built up a trust for Victor, seeing as he was in the hospital 24/7, and also because a little work would force him to stop wearing holes into the ground for at least two minutes. The stress had become unbearable. He could be sitting in the window seat, looking outside toward the sunny blue skies and the happy, bustling people only to suddenly find himself unable to breathe. He could be sitting next to Yuri, holding the boy's hand and talking about Makkachin, who he hadn't been able to see in over a year due to stupid hospital rules (apparently the "no dogs allowed" rule is more important than the "non-patients can't sleep here for years on end" rule) and he'd suddenly start shaking like an earthquake.

He had so much anxiety and trepidation and misery that there weren't heavy enough words to describe it.

But all of a sudden it disappeared and it was replaced by "Yuri wake up so we can go skating" and "Yuri come on I want to sit by the shore and talk with you." Victor had accidentally normalized the situation. It was as if Yuri was no longer in a possibly-most-likely-life-threatening coma, but was instead just really lazy and slept in too much. Victor countered these feelings that had so overpowered him that they became either invisible or so strong that they were just the norm, by doing strange things. He counted the big white spotted tiles on the ceiling, which was normal enough. He discovered how to tie a cherry stem with his tongue in three days, a feat to be praised. He honest to God sunk so low as to play hop scotch in the square tiles on the floor for hours, amusing the nurses to no end. Now the whirlwind, the explosion, the storming flood of emotions was gone and he was left with was _boredom_.

Groaning, Victor awkwardly spun himself around so his legs were dangling over one arm of the chair and his torso was draped across the other one. Sighing, he then pulled himself upright and glanced down at his friend, who was still sleeping.

Blip.

Blip.

Blip.

Stupid heart monitor and its stupid false hope and its stupid hovering nurses and its stupid arrogant doctors and their stupid practical clipboards and their stupid useless apologies.

"They keep saying that the longer you're in this coma, the worse the damage to your brain probably is." Victor plopped on the bed, facing the window he spent most of his time sitting at. He felt a bit ridiculous talking to someone who couldn't respond, and probably couldn't hear either, but every time he did talk to Yuri, it felt like a weight was lifted from his chest, his shoulders, his heart, his mind. Colours became more vivid and the light glowed brighter. Victor was inwardly embarrassed by the effects of talking to an unconscious person, but he was willing to do anything, if it meant two minutes of peace.

"With all the time you've spent in that coma, your brain must be mush. I doubt you can even count anymore." Victor added bitterly.

Victor felt himself becoming somewhat twisty and maybe a little dark inside. Little things ticked him off and made him want to blow up something.

Like how everyone was always asking how he was feeling. Victor hated it when people asked how he was feeling. They always told him not to lie when he said he was okay, and if he did tell the truth, everyone would look at him with the same pitying expression and tell him he just has to be strong. Victor glared at Mr. Katsuki who would pet him on the shoulder, or muss his hair. The man was just trying to bring a sense of normalcy and comfort to Victor, but Victor saw it as an insult, no longer the nice and warm feelings.

Victor felt pathetic, like that sympathy and those pitying expressions were all he deserved. Here he was, a grown man with a fantastic career and magnificent credentials, sitting in a hospital room, needing to talk to an unconscious person and to be hugged by the unconscious person's dad in order to make it through the day. Victor was just glad that paparazzi had somehow been forced away so no one would see him like this. This shell of himself. He wasn't sure what was keeping paparazzi out. Either there was a Hulk on the hospital's security team, or they felt really badly for what was… happening. What happened, really. The only thing that was _happening_ was stillness. What happened is what screwed everything up. What _happened_ is what tilted the Earth off its precarious axis and sent the world in a tundra of freezing cold and roaring, icy wind. But that storm was somewhat manageable, since the world wasn't privy to his private life. That didn't last long, though.

When paparazzi had found out, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook all crashed within the first twenty minutes that the information of Yuri's accident and coma had been open to the public. Pinterest and Tumblr were close seconds. Hashtags were flying across screens and likes, and hearts, and smiley faces were blowing up Victor's phone, and his feed was clogged with words of support and videos of memorials.

 _Memorials_.

These people were acting as if Yuri was already dead. Victor couldn't even bring himself to care that pictures of him sobbing and covered in dirt and being hugged by Yuri's parents were floating around the internet. He just wished people would stop making a sideshow or a "feel better about yourself by clicking like to this sad video of a person's life before they died even though they're not dead yet, just soon to be dead" fiesta over the fact that he felt like the one rock in his life was slipping away. Was eroding, in a sense.

Victor's thoughts and emotions and energy were all directed towards his friend. Realistically, Victor knew there was nothing in particular that he could actually do to revive Yuri from the coma, but just sitting with the ill boy mad Victor feel as if he were helping. So, in a sense, Victor was just helping himself. Like always. Selfish.

Now that it seemed like Victor had more time on his hands, he went through the posts, commenting on and liking them all, wanting at least to keep his fans' hopes up. He refrained from posting anything about the current situation, not trusting his ability to keep calm enough to smile for a picture or write a blurb about how long Yuri's coma was lasting and such. He soon discovered, however, that he didn't even need to keep track of how long Yuri had been in the coma. Apparently one of Yuri's fans was obsessed with the field of medicine, or something like that because they had a ticking timer of how long Yuri's coma was lasting. Under that little timer was a chart. And, on that chart was amount of time spent in a coma and the possible side effects of being in a coma for that long.

Victor knew the effects.

He knew in detail every little thing that could possible go wrong. He knew of every little thing that could happen when Yuri woke up. And he understood that every day was getting closer to "if" and further from "when." He knew about memory loss, and inabilities to function, inabilities to speak or walk, migraines and headaches every day, changes in personality— he knew it all. But seeing it written was just so much more real. Seeing that not just some pessimistic nurses and arrogant doctors thought that these conditions could happen to Yuri after he woke from his coma made everything that much more painful. This was real. This was happening. And Victor had a front row seat to what might be the biggest, most horrible crash and burn in the century— in all the history of the world.

Victor threw himself backwards, lying across Yuri's legs and staring up at the ceiling, which he could say, with certainty, had 57 tiles. He had given in to measuring some of the smaller tiles that had gotten cut short so they would fit in the ceiling up against the edge of the wall and came to the conclusion that all the cut tiles made 10 tiles, which he added to his original count of 47 full tiles. Victor winced as the boy's knees dug into his spine, and he squirmed lightly to find a better position. "Yuri, you're not comfortable." He grumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

Victor's eyes flew open and he jerked up, whizzing to stare down at the owner of the voice. In his process of sitting up quickly, Victor had overestimated how long the bed was and promptly slid right off the end, landing on his bum with an unimpressive thud.

"Yuri?"

 **AN:**

 **DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNN!**

 **I wanted to make the coma seem long and Victor seem to be kind of… in a coma as well, if that makes sense, but I also didn't want to bore everyone with details and dragging out a plot too long. Let me know how I did!**

 **Thanks for the continued support from all the lovely fans out there, keep sending me requests and ideas for continuing this story, or even making new ones!**


	7. The Awakening

**AN:**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice, just this hellish little angst mess of heartbreak we all call a story**

 **I tried to write in the snapshot style, where you get little snippets of daily life, but I don't know how it turned out. Let me know what you think!**

 **Anyways, this is for our lovely friend, Guest, who accidentally gave me some WONDERFUL ideas for this chapter. Also, big thanks to Leradomi for tolerating my explosion of questions about comas. Thanks for your help, I'll do my best!**

 **Also, this probably isn't edited worth a pigeon. Sorry about that, life got ahead of me.**

Ch7— The Awakening

 _The world was an ice rink._

 _Everywhere, there was ice._

 _Nothing else._

 _No stores, or houses, or roads, or people._

 _Just Yuri._

 _Yuri on ice._

 _Yuri felt sharp cold. The chilly wind blew tiny snowflakes that danced around and glinted in the sunlight. So shiny. They were like hair. Silvery. Shiny._

 _Yuri frowned._

 _Hair? He didn't know anyone with silvery shiny hair. His family all had dark hair, and so did he. Yuri shrugged the odd feeling of familiarity that the silvery snowflakes brought and began skating slowly. He didn't do tricks or spins, he just gently pushed himself across the ice as if he were strolling down the sidewalk. Nowhere to go, no reason to rush. Just being out and being moving._

 _It was peacefully quiet until Yuri heard the sound of another pair of skates scraping the ice. These scrapes were urgent and rapid, they sounded like they were making a jolting sort of rhythm, instead of the steady smooth sounds of Yuri's skates. Yuri stopped skating, and spun around in lazy circles to try and locate the creator of the sound. It was coming from a far away._

 _Yuri suddenly noticed a line of tall, dark green trees standing behind him. He hadn't seen that before, how strange. He skated towards the trees until he could see the dark roots reaching down beneath the ice floor, as if searching for something. Yuri glanced back up at the forest line. The sounds of skates were definitely coming from that way._

 _Upon getting closer, Yuri began to see flickers of movement and colour between the trees that stood tall and stiff like soldiers before battle. It looked like something in a fuchsia or another reddish-pink colour was flittering around just beyond the tree line. Intrigued, Yuri skated closer, attempting to keep his skates as silent as possible so he wouldn't scare the person or thing._

 _Once he was a few feet from the tree line, Yuri could finally make out what was behind the trees. It definitely a person. A man, to be exact. The man was dancing and floating and skating with a kind of desperation and fire that jolted Yuri's heart. He performed complex and intricate moves with the precision and grace of a professional. Yuri was hypnotized by watching the man, but suddenly the man came to a stop. His back was towards Yuri, who desperately wanted to see this magical stranger's face._

" _Excuse me?" Yuri called. "Can you tell me where I am? And who you are?" the man was still for a few more moments. Just when Yuri was about to call out again, the man turned around. Yuri was too far away to really see the man's features, but he saw the man reach out an arm invitingly. The stranger's face turning brighter, as well, probably by a smile. His silver hair shone in the sunlight like snowflakes._

 _Who was this man?_

 _Yuri didn't get his answer, but he began hearing the man speak. Yuri couldn't focus in on what he was saying, but he caught something towards the end._

"… _. not comfortable."_

" _I'm sorry?" he attempted to say, but his throat was tight and it felt like something was choking him. Suddenly the ice shattered, the world flipped upside down and ice fragments tinkled down on him like it was raining ice._

Actually, the sound Yuri made was more like a choking, hacking cough (apparently breathing tubes are hard to talk around, who knew?) but Victor got the message.

"Yuri… you're… I mean you can… is…" Victor grasped for words, still sprawled awkwardly across the floor. Yuri wasn't paying him any attention, and was trying to tug his breathing tube forcefully out of his mouth. Suddenly remembering a nurse's short lesson on breathing tubes, Victor realized that mindless tugging and breathing-tube-down-throat were a bad combination. Throwing himself across his friend's torso, Victor forced Yuri to stop pulling on his tube by attempting to restrain his friend like an Australian wrestling a rattlesnake. The whole bed rattled and shook and the heart monitor was going wild. This only aggravated Yuri further. Now the patient was choking, seeming to be unable to breath, despite the tube. Irony.

"Nurse!" Victor shouted breathlessly as Yuri continued to try to fight him off with weak struggles. "He's awake, I need help!" he was so over-excited and out of breath from the fear his student had struck in him, that he couldn't gather enough air or voice to yell loud enough. Suddenly gasping dramatically, Victor forced the air out of his lungs with a loud yell.

"NURSE!" He was practically screaming in his panic. He realized that it was stupid for him to be freaking out just because his friend woke up from a coma, but in all fairness, he had been preparing himself for Yuri to never to wake up. Then, all of a sudden, the boy pops up like a zombie from a cheesy movie and starts strangling himself with the breathing tube. It was a shocking thing.

The sound of squeaky shoes and official sounding shouts filled the room as doctors and nurses filed in. The male doctor that Victor hated most (the one with slick, blonde hair that was as greasy as the jerk's personality) tried to drag Victor off Yuri, like Animal Control wrestling a ravenous beast away from a bone, but Yuri was not having it.

Between coughs and awkward wheezes, Yuri was letting out croaky, wordless yells that sounded almost demonic. He was also gripping Victor's wrists like a vice, refusing to let go even for a second. Victor didn't know much about comas, but he knew enough about physical fitness to realize that even only a few weeks of no physical activity and constant bedrest should _not_ leave a person this strong.

"Kid, we have to get you off your friend or we won't be able to help him." The doctor explained slowly in the "I am God, do as I say" kind of voice. All the doctors Victor hated used that tone. Victor hated it. So much.

Yuri snarled at the doctor in such a violent, animalistic way that Victor found himself wishing he could do the same. Feeling somewhat proud of his student for fighting despite his weakened state, Victor shot a triumphant grin at the doctor. The doctor was glaring at Victor as if he had terribly wronged said doctor. Turning away with a dramatic sniff, Victor finally centered his attention on the nurses who were taking vitals and working on the tube as if Victor wasn't even there. So much for "won't be able to help him." Stupid, lying doctor.

"He doesn't want me to go." Victor stated sharply.

"Honey, I need you to let out a big cough on three, okay?" a nurse in the background told Yuri for the third time, ignoring everything around her (nurses, as Victor had discovered, were extremely underappreciated). Yuri seemed to also not be having any of that, as his focus solely on Victor.

"Son, I understand that you don't want to leave your friend, but you have to let go so these ladies and I can do our job." The doctor sounded kind of irritated. He must be used to getting his way. Victor hated doctors. Loved what they did, hated the person behind the mask.

"Actually, _sir_ ," one of the nurses with long, thick braids butted in. " _We're_ doing just fine with Victor being here. Now if you would stop arguing with Victor so we can get Yuri's tube out, that would be greatly _appreciated_. _Sir_." Victor loved how the nurse used "sir" as a curse. The doctor looked absolutely miffed and let out an exaggerated "hmph," flouncing away, his white coat fluttering about him. The nurses tutted and rolled their eyes together, almost in unison. Once the doctor was gone, Victor clambered off his friend and attempted to leave the bed, but was stopped by Yuri's grasp again. One of the nurses shoved him back onto the bed and demanded that he stay there, lest he upset the patient. Grinning, Victor sat comfortably beside his friend.

"On three, Baby." A nurse with black rimmed glasses said softly. "One. Two. Three!" That same nurse jerked the tube out of Yuri's mouth when the boy let out a ragged cough that sounded immensely painful. The nurses fluttered about, doing this and that, but Victor paid them no mind. He watched Yuri wipe his face and give a few more coughs. Yuri's coughs were full body. He jerked, his shoulders heaving as he gasped through fits of coughing. Victor pulled Yuri slightly upright, hoping it would help his breathing, and rubbed circles on his friend's bony back as the rattling coughs continued. Eventually they tapered off into heavy breaths.

"Are you okay?" Victor asked nervously. Yuri glanced up at him dazedly, mouth wide open as if in an effort to gather as much air as possible in each breath.

"Didn't think so." Victor muttered, pulling his friend closer, so the boy's limp body rested against his own. Yuri was like a spineless ragdoll. He couldn't hold himself upright, he didn't seem to be able to speak either. Victor was panicking a little, accepting a tissue to dry some of the drool on his student's face.

"He'll need to rest a lot, so if he randomly nods off, don't worry. If you feel that anything is wrong, or that he fell asleep too suddenly, or won't wake up— let us know. His body is very exhausted, so it's natural that getting to sleep will be much easier than waking up, but we want to make sure he doesn't fall back into another coma, okay?" the nurse with glasses said softly, her large, warm hand resting gently on Victor's shoulder.

"He also may not be able to do much for a while, and may even need some therapy for things like speech and walking. Don't let it worry you too much, we have a lot of success with coma patients at this hospital." The nurse with the braids admitted warmly.

"Another coma?" Victor whispered, feeling part relieved and part distressed. It was just so overwhelming, he wanted to cry. His friend was back. Back and a live and healthy (for the most part), yet he might slip away again? The nurse took his hand in both of hers and peered at him earnestly.

"I understand." Victor said as steadily as he could manage. The nurse gave him a weak smile and they all shuffled out the door, closing it softly behind them.

"Yuri, everybody is going to be so glad that you're— asleep." Victor's excited train in thought slammed on its breaks when he glanced down to see his friend's eyes closed once more. He poked his friend's cheek and grinned when he received a cheek twitch in return. Definitely asleep.

Victor was kind of… pissed. Yuri came back. All the way. Awake, alert, sort of speaking (not really) and his vitals were all within the normal, healthy range. Everything was okay— everything was more than okay! After months of waiting, Victor's closest friend had finally woken up— only to fall right back under again.

The doctors said it wasn't another coma. The nurses said it wasn't another coma. Mrs. Katsuki, recently educated through various "reliable" medical websites, said it wasn't another coma.

That meant it couldn't be a coma. Right?

 _Right?_

Victor glanced down at the bed where his student lay. Victor had to admit that his friend definitely looked better. The boy's complexion had flushed a bit, which was much better than the corpse-white colour he had been before. There wasn't much else that improved. Victor wasn't sure what he was hoping for.

How could he expect Yuri to jump up out of bed after the end of a 3-month coma, ready to skate and laugh together? How could he expect someone who hadn't moved on their own or spoken for 3 months to somehow be able to communicate and function normally all of the sudden? Wishful thinking was a powerful thing— but it wasn't powerful enough.

Instead of celebrating the recovery of his friend, Victor found himself still sitting watchfully in the same chair beside the large bed that held the small, vulnerable body. Here he was, days after Yuri's "first awakening" (as Mari called it), in the same position as he had been before. Waiting.

Waiting as possibly the most awful thing in the world. Victor's mind was constantly at war, battling between "it's going to be find, Yuri's strong, the heavens love me" and "It's too much, Yuri's fought so hard and he might not be able to do this, God hates me." The waiting was bad enough, _without_ the warring sides of Victor's brain.

"Yuri, _pleeeaaase_!" Victor practically whined, flopping his upper torso across the edge of the bed. "You are _killing_ _me_." He groaned dramatically. He picked at the blanket, pitifully watching his fingers pluck the scratchy fabric. He was well aware that he looked pathetic, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Yuri was so close to being healed, yet so far away.

Moving his fiddling fingers from the blanket to Yuri's hand, Victor began drawing lazy circles on the soft, almost translucent skin. He wasn't even sure what he was doing here. What he was doing at all. Yuri was his thing. Teaching Yuri, helping Yuri, sharing advice and experiences with Yuri. That's what Victor did. Now all of the sudden, Victor lost the ability to do what he loved, to do what he always did, to teach and be taught.

Feeling slightly as if his life were coming to a dramatic end, Victor unconsciously squeezed the hand he had been doodling across with his finger. He was not prepared, however, for the light twitch he received in return. Victor flinched violently, scrambling to his feet without detaching his hand from Yuri's.

"Yuri?" he asked breathlessly. His inquiry was met with silence. "Yuri, are you awake?" Yuri's face grimaced. "I know you're there. Stop being lazy." He received a twitch of Yuri's facial muscles. The twitch looked suspiciously like a grimace. "You can hear me, can't you, lazybones?" this time it was a finger twitch. Victor grinned. Progress was progress, no matter how small it seemed in the grand scheme of things.

"Can you wake up for me, Yuri? Please?" Victor begged. No movement. "Yuri, please…. I need…" Finger twitch. "Please, I— I have to see you. I need to see you." Eyelids fluttered open. "Wow, I did _not_ think that was going to work." Victor admitted wholeheartedly. Groggy, confused eyes of his best friend gazed dully up at him with an innocence that shouldn't exist in a man Yuri's age.

"Hi, Yuri." Victor whispered in a breathy, babyish voice. With anyone else, Victor would've been extremely embarrassed to be speaking to someone in such a manner, but this was Yuri. Yuri was different. Yuri just blinked sluggishly. "How are you feeling?" Victor asked anxiously, attempting to appear calm.

Blink.

"Do you need me to call the nurse to get you something?"

Blink.

"Are you thirsty? They said you'd still struggle with bodily functions like drinking so that's why you still have an IV. If you can handle ice chips, I can get you some."

Blink.

"Can you understand me? Can you hear me? Yuri."

At the sound of his name, Yuri's facial muscles twitched slightly. Other than that, the boy remained still and silent. Victor sighed.

"Stop getting your hopes up, they said he's got a long road to recovery." Victor scolded himself, slumping dejectedly into the hard chair next to the bed. Yuri's eyes followed him. Victor cocked his head. He was sure they said Yuri wouldn't be able to even focus on a single object for at least a week, but he was positive that Yuri was watching him with those big, dark pools.

"Are you watching me?" Victor asked curiously, still using that obnoxious, high pitched baby voice. Yuri blinked again. Victor groaned and arched his back over the back of the chair, feeling frustrated. He knew that Yuri couldn't control what his body did or didn't let him do and he was well aware that Yuri went through a pretty traumatizing event, but that did nothing to the jangled nerves and irritation that blossomed in Victor's heart.

Feeling the blood rushing painfully to his head, Victor pulled himself upright, willing the pounding in his ears to end. Once he was upright and his vision returned as blood flow decided to stop fighting gravity, Victor realized his friend was asleep again.

"Yuri, try to lift your finger."

Whine.

" _Yuri_. Try to lift your finger. Just try."

Whine.

" _Yuri_."

Hiss.

Victor was failing at an attempt to get Yuri to complete the simple exercises that the nurses suggested they try every day.

" _Remember, he may not be able to do these things immediately so try not to get too frustrated. He'll be irritated enough without feeling like he's disappointed someone. Just asking him to try these will help him start to move and respond. Just remember this: the goal isn't for him to perfectly do the exercise. It's just that he listens and attempts to respond or do what you say." A nurse had explained to him as Yuri stared at them, his normally blank stare looking a bit concerned and confused._

"Yuri, just try. I know you're frustrated that you can't do it yet, but it will happen if you keep trying. You'll never know if you just sit here and mope." Victor complained, attempting to sound somewhat inspirational through his irritation.

Yuri let out a growl that sounded like an amazing imitation of an angry bear.

"Yuri—"

" _No_!"

Victor froze and jerked back. Yuri said a word. Like, an actual word. Granted, it sounded more like a grunt than a word, but the intention was clear.

"Yuri did you just…"

"No." the boy repeated with less anger and more awe behind it.

"Nurse— _nurse_! He said something! He said a word!" Victor exclaimed enthusiastically as Yuri puttered away, saying "no" over and over again, his tone getting brighter as Victor's grin grew. A few nurses that Victor had gotten close to scrambled in, one holding a half-drunk coffee and another holding an armful of binders and charts.

"Say it again, say it again!" the tall one with a coffee exclaimed.

"Come on, Yuri, tell the us what you said!"

"You can do it baby, we believe in you!" the nurses crowed like new mothers over an infant who just said "mama" for the first time.

There was a moment of silence as Yuri's brow furrowed and he licked his lips, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth due to the still clumsy muscles. Victor rested a hand on Yuri's shoulder and grinned at him supportively when the boy glanced up uncertainly at him.

"No!" Yuri belted out, grinning widely as the nurses cooed all over him, stroking his hair and petting his shoulders.

"Good boy!"

"Wonderful, job!"

"So soon to be saying words already!"

Victor grinned like a proud parent as Yuri basked in the praise, practically glowing. The room went quiet as the nurses filtered out, heading to do charts and finish lunch or whatever they were doing before Yuri's big moment. After a moment of still peace, Victor spoke up.

"Yuri, try to lift your finger."

"No!"

Victor winced at the multiple popping sounds that came from his back as he arched slightly.

"I hate hospital chairs." He grumbled, taking a long sip from his coffee as he stood in the elevator. He also hated elevators. They were so slow. He wanted to see Yuri dang it. All Yuri could really say was yes and no, and the boy seemed strangely distant. The nurses chalked it up to the idea that Yuri felt like he had a five-minute nap, but it was actually months that past, so he was trying to cope with that lost time and the reality that he might not have ever up. But Victor felt like it was something more.

"I hate hospitals." Victor muttered, jumping back when he just stepped out of the elevator almost directly into the path of a gurney going 50 down the hall. He licked the splotch of hot liquid that fell onto his fingerless gloves, making a strange face at the fuzz his tongue picked up from the knitted fabric. He stepped back into the hallway, rolling his eyes at the obnoxious ding from the elevator. He swaggered down the hall, a hand in the pocket and another gripping his coffee loosely. The sound of his shoes was almost drowned out by the soft chatter of the nurses, the shouting from the doctors pushing the gurney was long gone.

"Ah, Victor— Jeezus Christ!" one of the nurses leaned across the desk to get Victor's attention, but she overestimated how long the desktop was. It took two other nurses gripping her by the legs to keep her from going over the edge.

"Oh my God, Nashi! What are you doing?" Victor exclaimed, jogging quickly over to one of his favourite nurses. Nashi was pulled off the desk and she pushed her thick rimmed glasses back up on her little nose and grinned up at Victor.

"Yuri sounds more fluent, today! He can speak full sentences!" the strawberry blonde exclaimed, her bob cut dancing as she bounced on her toes. Victor's jaw dropped.

"I've been gone for nearly three days— how did this happen?" Victor demanded, stunned and unbelievably excited at the same time. He took off, racing down the hall as the nurses cheered him on from behind him. Victor kind of felt bad for the short-term patients who must be very confused as to why there were always nurses running around in a tizzy of excitement.

When he reached the door to Yuri's room, Victor patted his hair one more time and straightened his scarf. Then he pushed the door open and slid into the room gracefully.

"Morning Yu—" Yuri was sitting upright and was grinning brightly up at his mother, saying simple sentences to her.

"Where's…. Mari?" Yuri was questioning slowly.

"She's at home, holding down the fort. We've had so many customers coming to give their condol— er, congratulate us on your health!" Yuri's mother explained, holding and patting one of her child's hands. Her eyes sparkled with suspicious wetness.

"You… visited… me much?" Yuri asked curiously.

"We've visited you every day, do you not remember seeing us since you've woken up?" Yuri's mother sounded confused.

"Don't remember…. anything before… now." Yuri said, sounding ashamed. Mrs. Katsuki put a gentle hand on her son's cheek.

"Don't feel bad, you can hardly help what your mind lets you remember. You just have to heal." Yuri grinned, albeit sadly. He then looked up at the door, as if just now sensing Victor's presence. Yuri looked confused and a bit lost for a moment.

Victor knew he must look crazy. His scarf had slipped to the ground when he jolted to a stop upon hearing Yuri speak full sentences, and a good portion of his coffee was on his shirt and the floor. He was also gaping open mouth in a very unattractive way.

"H-hi, Yuri." Victor grinned tentatively. He couldn't wait to hear his name spoken from the lips of his closest friend again. The way Yuri said the name "Victor" was so magical, it thrilled Victor and sent pleasant tingles running up and down his body. He was so excited, he thought his heart might burst out of his chest. Yuri looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes and Victor felt his skin start to heat up. Here it comes, here it comes— Yuri was about to talk to him for the first time in forever!

"I'm…. sorry…." Yuri trailed off with a hauntingly blank look. Victor blinked in confusion as Yuri stared at him as if he were a complete stranger. "… but do I know you?"

And just like that.

Victor's world shattered.

"It's like the universe doesn't want us to be together!" Victor complained loudly, dropping his forehead onto the table. Mr. Katsuki swiped Victor's tray of food out from the path of his falling head. He was sitting in the cafeteria with Mr. Katsuki, who had followed Victor out of the hospital room. After Yuri announced that he had no idea who Victor was, Victor was done.

All kinds of done

Every type of done.

Every. One.

All of them.

All the dones.

"I know it seems like that, but the doctors said his amnesia is temporary—"

" _Probably_." Victor cut in loudly. "They said that it was _probably_ temporary." Mr. Katsuki sighed and took a long sip of coffee, muttering something to himself. "I know you're talking about me." Victor grumbled. "I don't even get how he forgot me. He seemed to recognize me the first time he woke up. What happened?"

"Well... he was pretty disoriented. Maybe he just needed a kind hand or something. It could be that you were the first person he saw, too. You know how baby birds bond with whoever they see when they first hatch? Maybe Yuri is like that." Mr. Katsuki frowned at the oddness of his own analogy.

"Yuri is a… baby bird?"

"It makes sense, doesn't it? He bonded closely suddenly to what he saw as a stranger."

"But every day he was getting closer and closer to me. It was like…. Like our friendship was strengthening— or something like that!" Victor blushed at how childish he sounded, but he was quite honestly panicking.

"Maybe. But for him, he was meeting someone new every day and was getting used to them as the day went on. Then the next day he completely forgot about you and met you for the first time again. The doctor did say something about Yuri having issues making new memories—" Mr. Katsuki stopped speaking immediately when he saw the look on Victor's face.

"Victor, no one said this was going to be easy." Mr. Katsuki said firmly. "I realize this is very hard for you, and I know that you and Yuri have been through a lot together, but I need you to understand something. Just because it's hard to be together, doesn't mean you should stop being Yuri's friend, his coach, his mentor." Mr. Katsuki sighed the sigh of a weary old man.

"Victor, you mean a lot to Yuri. Without you… I don't even want to think about—" Mr. Katsuki looked down as if whatever he was thinking about physically hurt. "He was always lonely, you know? Kept to himself. Wasn't good with people. He was kind and intelligent, a true lover and a loyal person— but he couldn't show that to anyone. They didn't give him the chance." Victor felt a pang in his chest at hearing about Yuri's lonely childhood. "I don't know if they thought he looked different, or wasn't like them somehow— but kids ignored him."

"You're the first person who's really brought out his true self. That's helped him see past this shy, scared little kid to the strong individual he is now. Yukko was a blessing and really gave Yuri a friend, but we owe _you_ for everything that Yuri has become. So… thank you." Mr. Katsuki's eyes started watering. "Thank you so much for saving my son. Thank you, thank you…. but please don't leave, not while he needs you most." Victor reached across the table and clasped his hands around Mr. Katsuki's.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm in this for good." Victor said seriously.

"You have to talk to him."

"Except for the fact that I don't."

"Don't get snarky with me just because your boyfriend doesn't know who you are."

"Fight me. And he's not my boyfriend."

"Keep telling yourself that." Mari had traded shifts with her parents so she was able to come visit Yuri, and she was currently sitting in the cafeteria, trying to get Victor to grow a pair. Ever since it came out that Yuri couldn't remember Victor, Victor had been avoiding Yuri as much as he could. According to any of the people who were visiting Yuri daily, Yuri hadn't brought Victor up. At all. Victor thought that the kid would have at least been curious as to why someone he thought was a stranger was getting so emotional upon seeing him.

"Shut up— go talk to your brother. I'm sure you're thrilled he remembers you." Victor grumbled bitterly, feeling particularly sorry for himself at the moment.

"Look, I get that you're upset. But just remember, you aren't the only one he forgot." Mari informed him, sounding almost like a nagging mother.

"How's that?" Victor asked, interest piqued.

"He doesn't remember any of your skating crew." She said matter of factly, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp from her almost empty slushie.

"Seriously? None of them?"

"Nope. Not a one."

"How do you know this?" Victor asked suspiciously. Mari shrugged casually.

"I asked him."

"What, you just walked up to him and show him a bunch of pictures and ask if he knew the people in them or something?"

"More or less, yeah."

"And he doesn't remember _any_ of us?"

"Not you, not Phichit, not Chris, not Minami, not Otabek, not Yurio—" Mari listed off, grimacing as Victor suddenly interrupted her.

"He doesn't remember Yurio?!" Victor demanded with a terrified voice.

"Well, no. He doesn't remember any of you, I said that— I did say that didn't I?"

"Oh man, Yurio's going to be shredded." Victor seemed like he hadn't heard Mari's sarcastic answer. He had one hand covering his mouth and the other clenching his phone with a death grip.

"I thought that little twerp didn't even like Yuri." Mari pondered aloud.

"He may act that way, but he loves Yuri to pieces. He has this love/hate relationship that someone might have with their younger sibling." Victor answered distractedly, wondering how the heck he was going to break the news to Yurio.

"That's…"

"I know."

"Kinda adorable."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't tell him that."

"Sure thing. But, uh…"

"Yeah?"

"Well…" Mari trailed off, sounding like a child who knew she did something wrong, but was terrified to tell their parent, in fear of punishment or consequence.

"Mari, what are you not telling me?" Victor asked cautiously, feeling as if he were walking on an active volcano or on cracking ice, just waiting for everything to go all to heck.

"Yurio may have called us up and asked if he could visit today…"

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

"This is going to go—"

"Hey Victor, when can I see Yuri?" a moody voice behind Mari and Victor asked. Mari looked over Victor's shoulder and her wide eyes confirmed Victor's theory on who the voice belonged to. Yurio. With his back toward Yurio, Victor began mouthing words frantically, hoping that Mari would understand.

'Fake a heart attack or something!' Victor mouthed. Mari gave him a confused look.

'What?' she asked, exaggerating the vowels.

'Play. Dead.' Victor mouthed slower, hoping she would get the gist.

All of the sudden, Yurio was at their table, babbling on about wanting to see "stupid" Yuri who was "dumb enough" to get himself into a coma but "lucky enough" to get himself back out.

"Like, how am I supposed to train, when I know that my competition is lying in bed dying. That gives me a leg up on him— I don't need head starts or advantages, I'm good enough to beat him fair and square! And, that's what I'm going to do! Now, where is he, Mrs. Katsuki told me he was up and talking." Yurio demanded, a fist on his cocked hip. Mari and Victor glanced at each other nervously.

"What? What's wrong? You're doing that thing that adults do when they have to break bad news to a little kid. What's wrong?" Yurio asked tensely, bristling like a cat.

"Ah, well…" Mari glanced at Victor frantically, her wide eyes begging him to step in and say something.

"Yurio, Yuri may not remember you." Victor stated flatly, his heart secretly crying when he saw the light die in Yurio's eyes. "In fact, he probably _won't_ remember you. He doesn't remember me, either. Or anyone he knows from the skating world, actually." Yurio looked like his world crumbled. Like he was lost, or stranded. Abandoned, almost. And then he snapped back to his usual self, although he seemed a bit high strung.

"He'll remember me. He has to. No one could forget me." Yurio insisted defensively. Mari and Victor gave each other a knowing look. This was not going to go well.

"Okay. Let's go, then." Victor said, standing up. He offered one hand to Yurio, who clung to it instead of getting offended and claiming that he didn't need to hold someone's hand like a child. Mari grabbed their trays and dumped them in the trash before coming over to join the two on their walk up to Yuri's room.

Their travel was silent and tense. Victor and Mari traded glances over the top of Yurio's blonde head. Both Mari and Victor were unsure of how badly this was going to go. They knew it was going to go poorly. It was just a matter of how poorly. Like, stomping enraged dragon? Or sobbing, pitiful kitten?

Victor stopped them just outside of Yuri's room, his hand poised above the doorknob as he turned to warn Yurio one last time. He received a weak glare before he even said anything, so he just sighed and opened the door.

"First off, I have something for Yuri." Mari announced, slipping between Victor's and Yurio's bodies, clutching to her chest a backpack that Victor hadn't noticed before. She stepped over to Yuri, with Victor and Yurio hanging behind a bit awkwardly. She plopped on the hard bed, saying good morning to her brother as she struggled with the zipper to her bag.

Yuri looked up from a familiar looking scrapbook he had open in his lap. The Katsuki family had recently informed Victor that they brought little things from Yuri's history as a skater to the hospital in an effort to get Yuri to remember that portion of his past. He remembered that he skated, but he couldn't remember his skating friends, or the competition or the silver that he won. So, his family brought medals, awards, pictures, costumes, trinkets and letters from his fans— everything they could think of that might spike a memory.

So far, no success.

"I got you something from home, kid." Mari said, pulling something out of her bag. Yuri's eyes lit up with something akin to recognition. He held out his hands, flexing them in the "gimmie, gimmie" fashion that toddlers used to ask for something. Laughing, Mari handed the object to Yuri who cradled it to his chest. Yurio and Victor peered around Mari, scooting into the room a bit farther so they could see what Yuri was holding.

A shiny pair of black ice skates.

 _Yuri's_ shiny pair of black ice skates.

"Do you recognize them?" Mari asked hopefully and both Victor and Yurio drank in the image of Yuri holding his skates, something they hadn't seen in a while, and somehow missed. Yuri looked down at the skates thoughtfully, stroking the fabric as he nibbled his lower lip in concentration.

"I recognize them…" Yuri started. "I recognize them, but I don't know from where." A silent, depressed sigh was felt throughout the room. "It's like… I know they're important to me, but I don't remember why. I know I used to skate, but that was eons ago, so these can't be mine." Yuri sighed, obviously frustrated. "It's like having a favourite gift and not knowing who gave it to you. You know it was someone important to you, so in your head you run through the names of all the people you love, but you somehow can't quite put your finger on which one gave it to you." Yuri stopped, rubbing a hand down his face.

"This is just… all so frustrating." He admitted, sounding angry with himself. "I know everyone wants me to remember— I want me to remember— and I know that it hurts everyone, the more they see that I don't remember things…. I'm trying… but it's like taking a test about a detailed book you read twenty years ago. You just can't remember. It's on the tip of your tongue, you feel like you would be able to point it out if you saw it jumbled in with things that don't belong…." Yuri trailed off.

"I'm sorry." He said softly, hugging the skates. Mari sighed.

"It's not your fault, I can see you're trying." She stood up, moving so Yurio and Victor could take center stage. "You can keep those, maybe you'll remember something."

"Yeah… maybe." Yuri looked uncertain, but he grinned weakly when Mari patted his head. She turned to Yurio and Victor.

"You're up." She said with the least bit support or comfort in her tone. She sounded like she was sending Yurio and Victor into battle, not up to talk with their hospital-bedridden friend who has a case of amnesia due to a long coma. Yurio seemed to take confidence from Mari's tone, however. He took a deep breath and marched over to Yuri's bed, standing in front of it and posing like a model.

"Hey, Pig." Yurio bit out, though his voice was rather soft and gentle, almost uncertain as if fearing the worst, which they all were. "The name's Yurio. Ringing any bells?" Though his words were tough, Yurio's voice sounded spectacularly weak and vulnerable, like a child begging a parent for attention.

"Ah, so you're the owner of these, correct?" Yuri asked in a gravelly voice, one arm hugging his own skates as the other pointed to a pair that still sat on his bedside table. Yurio lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Yeah, you remember?" Yurio asked, the hope so tangible in his voice that it was painful. Yuri bit his lip and looked down.

"Er, no… no I just— I just read the name on the inside of the skates. Sorry." Yuri seemed ashamed.

Yurio deflated.

"You… don't remember me?" he asked so quietly, that it almost wasn't heard at all.

"I am… so… _sorry_." Yuri seemed to be searching for words, but he must have been unable to come up with satisfactory ones, because he grimaced. "I really… I'm just… I…" Yuri tried to scrap together something to make Yurio feel better, but he was cut off.

"That's fine. Can I have my skates back, please?" Yurio demanded, holding a hand out expectantly. Victor gave him a scandalized look. Yurio said he wanted Yuri to have the skates for the duration of his hospital stay for many reasons, one of which being that he didn't want to skate while he knew Yuri couldn't. Yuri visibly flinched at Yurio's sudden harsh tone, and hesitated.

"But…. You gave them to me…." He muttered uncertainly.

"Yeah, so that you wouldn't be somewhere without skates—"

"I remember that." Yuri whispered. Yurio froze.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"I remember hearing that…. I remember someone saying that. And then there was something soft on my face. And it felt good." Yurio blushed, realizing that the "soft" thing was probably his own fingertips, which he had kissed before touching Yuri's head in a silent, yet oddly intimate good-bye.

"Yes, well… you have skates now. Of your own. You don't need mine." Yurio stated coldly. Victor gave him a look that went ignored.

"I… I guess if you need them…" Yuri seemed almost unwilling to part with Yurio's skates.

"Yes, I need them. They're mine. Hand them over please." Yuri bit his lip, looking miserable, but he did as he was asked. Trembling arms set Yuri's own skates down for a moment, trading them for the ability to hug Yurio's for just a second before passing them off. Yurio all but snatched his skates out of Yuri's hands and was about to storm off, when Yuri stopped him.

"Thank you, Yurio. Please visit more often so I can remember you. I think… I think if I could remember you now, I'd be very pleased to see you." Yuri gave his request politely and blushed at his last statement before leaning back and settling into the pillows on his bed. Yurio turned abruptly, his blonde hair falling into his eyes as he gripped his skates tightly as his shoulders tense, and he swooped out of the room. Yuri sighed and turned to Victor and Mari.

"You should go after him. He's probably… he's really upset. You should help him." Victor nodded, surprised at Yuri's intuition and got up to leave. Mari followed, announced she was going to go home and let Yurio and Victor "bro it out," which was quite honestly a relief. Yurio would be extremely upset if anyone other than Victor was present during his melt down.

It didn't take long for Victor to find Yurio. The boy was leaned against the wall outside of Yuri's door. He was hunched over with one hand covering his face and the other clutching his skates to his chest by their long laces. Victor reached out and put a hand on Yurio's shoulder lightly, testing the waters before diving in. When Yurio turned so that his forehead rested on Victor's shoulder, Victor knew it was safe.

Victor pulled Yurio tightly to his chest and muttered softly into his friend's blonde hair. The two sank onto the floor with Yurio leaning so close, he was practically on Victor's lap. They sat there for what felt like hours until Yurio fell completely asleep and was breathing softly against Victor's neck. Victor continued to hold his friend's pieces together until the sun came up.

 **AN:**

 **I had a lot of fun writing with coma Yuri. That's probably an awful thing to say, but him being moody, sassy and just basically a teenager or a whiny child was great. I did my best writing from the point of view of someone who experienced a coma, and with writing the after effects of someone being in a coma. It was much more difficult than I expected, and I've learned that a lot of people who write comas into their fanfics are very off base with realism. Comas are much more difficult and painful, than they sound in most fanfics, like dang.**

 **Keep coming with those ideas, you know I love them!**


	8. Memory Lane

**AN:**

 **Writer's block. Sucks.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri! On Ice (why is it three exclamation points? So much emotion in one little title)**

 **Sorry this is a week late, writer's block was like "hey we're going to cut you off for the week, bye."**

 **I'm still having issues making everybody stay in character and the whole "Yuri was just in a coma, he can't heal overnight" thing, so if it gets too unrealistic, let me know. I want to make this story as awesome as possible and improve my writing (which I know is bumpy and awkward at times).**

 **Also, I noticed that my page breaks are not going through. I hate formatting sometimes, it's so difficult. If anyone wants page breaks, I'll go back and put them in there (I just found out that you have to do this special thing with the shift button and the enter key or something to get page breaks) but to be honest, I'll probably fix it anyways. Eventually.**

 **Last thing, I swear— I tooled a bit with one of the character's backgrounds cuz…. I felt like it. So… yeah. Sorry not sorry. I have a sweatshirt that says that.**

 **Let the game begin!**

CH 8— Memory Lane

"'m sorry." Victor grit his teeth and slammed his head onto his own knee. Repeatedly. "Victor… 're you 'kay? 'm sorry." The soft voice of slurry words drifted across the room.

"No, I am _not_ okay, now would you please— _please_ — stop apologizing!" Victor begged, hands clasped together at the palms as he gazed up at his friend with pleading eyes. Yuri sat with his blankets pooled around his waist, big brown eyes looking very confused. Victor stared into those caramel-mocha pools of—

"Gah!" he exclaimed, leaping into the air. He stomped over to his window seat, hands clenching at his hair. He stared out the window, fixing his gaze on a side parked car whose lights continued to flash obnoxiously. He had shoved his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt and he was so tense, his shoulders reached his ears.

"He's not going to stop, so you might as well get used to it." Yurio muttered bitterly under his breath, chucking a small bouncy ball moodily against the wall. It slammed against the plaster with a thunderous thwack and flew back at him, sailing over his head to hit the wall just inches from Yuri's head. Yuri flinched and dove to the side, ducking away from the ball's path.

"Oi!" Yuri exclaimed, arms going to protect his head. Upon hearing the sudden excitement behind him (not that it was anything new. Yuri, Yurio and Victor in the same room was recipe for disaster, despite the memory quality of each person), Victor glanced over his shoulder. He ran across the room, an angry finger pointing at Yurio.

"Watch the flying objects! He just came out of a coma and we don't need another one! We came out of the first one!" Victor shouted. Yurio rolled his eyes. He flinched out of the way as Yuri and his poor aim attempted to throw the ball back.

"Ball! Away!" Victor demanded, pointing dramatically at Yurio who scuttled to his bag, where he tucked the ball. "Yuri! No throwing things! The doctor said for you to take it easy, therapy just started, you idiot!" Victor exclaimed dramatically. Yuri flopped back against the headboard of his bed with a grumpy sigh, and Yurio leaned against the wall, eventually sliding down so he sat on the cold floor. He propped his chin up on his knee, fixing his face with a pouty look, which Victor pointedly ignored. Silence settled, creating that rare, peaceful atmosphere that Victor was thankful for.

"Ah, hear that?" he whispered loudly, hand behind his ear as if he were listening hard for something. Yuri and Yurio glanced at each other with concerned expressions.

"Silence." He whispered, waggling his fingers around dramatically. Yuri watched him with an odd look.

"Are you…. Are you guys a'ways like this?" he asked curiously, grimacing at his difficulty with speaking. He still slurred and occasionally stuttered, which annoyed him to no end.

"No, we're actually pretty normal." Victor said as Yurio shook his head, mouthing what looked like the word "lies" or "lice" or something to that effect. Yuri nodded slowly, eyeing the two crazy people who had somehow become the brightest things in his own confused, messed up life. The silence lulled for a few minutes before it was shattered again.

"S'rry." Yuri blurted out as if it were a confession of a horrible deed. He immediately slapped his hands to his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Yurio groaned and Victor slapped a hand across his forehead.

"It was going so great, you were doing so great—" Victor practically whined, his hands dragging down his face.

"Silence, there was silence, such good silence—" Yurio grumbled, pressing the sides of his head as if trying to ward off a painful headache

"You weren't apologizing for like five minutes, that's the new record. I swear to God Yur—" Yurio and Victor chattered over each other, their exasperation obvious.

"Oh— s-sorry. I mean— I— 's jus' tha'…." Yuri attempted to sooth the tensions, only finding himself to be making it worse. Victor twirled around to face Yuri, his hands flattened together at the palms as if he were begging.

"Why do you keep apologizing? Why, Yuri, why?" he implored.

"Oh, he's fine, he's just socially awkward." Yurio responded casually, stretching his legs out across the floor and crossing his arms comfortably. Yuri, however, looked extremely uncomfortable. He glanced down at his lap and began smoothing the wrinkles out of the blanket that lay over his legs, avoiding the watchful stares of the two people who came to visit almost every day. Victor and Yurio exchanged odd looks as Yuri continued to stay silent.

"Yuri? Are you okay?" Victor asked, stepping closer. Yuri flinched violently, making the whole bed rattle. Victor hopped three steps back hands balled into fists, clutched closely to his chest. Yurio stood up slowly, startled from his originally passive attitude.

"Yuri…" Yurio seemed as if he was trying to say something, but wasn't sure how to do it. He clenched his fists and stared at the ground, frustrated with himself.

"'s— 's fine, 's nothin'. I'm sor—"

"Yuri!" Yurio practically shouted. Yuri scrunched his legs up, hugging them as if trying to hide himself from the scrutiny of his visitors. "Shut up before I come over there and make you— there's lot of heavy machinery in here that would probably do a lot of damage if I threw it at you so if you value whatever memories you've still got up there you might want to shut the—."

"Yurio, calm down! You know that he doesn't remember us and therefore can't tell when you're just being you, or when you're actually a threat. Yuri, relax, no one is going to hurt you. Can't you just—" Victor cut himself off and folded his hands together, taking a deep breath before he said something he'd regret. That was becoming increasingly difficult. "Can you tell us what's going on?" Yuri didn't respond immediately and seemed to be trying to make himself invisible.

"I— jus'..." Yuri dropped his face into his hands and whined pathetically. Victor stepped closer and tried to pull Yuri's fists away from his face, but found that Yuri wasn't giving in anytime soon. He settled for holding Yuri's wrists awkwardly in a way he hoped was comforting for his upset friend.

"I still can't 'member." The boy whispered miserably. Victor looked at Yurio over the top of Yuri's head.

'What do I do?' he mouthed frantically. Yurio threw his arms around in a violent 'I don't know, why are you asking me' gesture. Victor gave Yurio a panicked look, which Yurio mouthed apologies in response to.

"You guys 're so nice t'me an' I don' even know who you 're." Yuri slurred, his voice increasingly warbled from his coming tears. Victor looked alarmed and Yurio looked stricken with something akin to constipation. Yuri didn't notice, his focus solely on stopping his tears. "An'— an' I'm tryin'. I really am. I jus'…. There's nuthin' there!" Yuri exclaimed, growling as his irritation grew. "Why 're you guys even 'ere? You shouldn' even be 'ere."

"We're here because…. Because… uh— we want to help!"

"No. You don'. You jus' want the old Yuri— the one you think you know— you want him back." Yuri sighed, resting his forehead on his fists. "Jus' go— go." He whispered. Victor and Yuri glanced at each other.

"What?" Yurio asked, sounding thoroughly offended and upset.

"Go— go!" Yuri shouted, thrashing in Victor's grip. Victor unconsciously tightened his hands around Yuri's wrists.

"We're not going anywhere, we want to help you, Yuri, why can't you see that!?" Victor demanded, feeling frustrated.

"Leave me _alone_!" Yuri shouted with a monstrous, enraged snarl. Those loud exclamations echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the high ceilings. Victor released his friend's arm is if burned, and leapt back. He watched his friend with something close to fear. What was going on?

"Yuri, are you oka—"

"Don' talk ta' me." Yuri demanded suddenly.

"Yuri, please—"

"Leave. Me. 'Lone!" Yuri shouted back. Victor flinched. Who was this irritable, angry, violent person? He wasn't even a shell of the gentle and kind boy Victor once knew. It was like Victor was talking to a stranger.

Victor suddenly remembered the doctors had said something about a personality change, but Victor thought that there was no way Yuri could change. Yuri was strong and kind and self-less— there was nothing that could change that. When Victor voiced these thoughts, the doctor just smiled with a pitying expression when Victor had said this. The doctor (it was the one with the grandfatherly face, Victor liked that doctor) had said that he had no doubt that Yuri was strong, but that Victor and the others should prepare themselves. Everyone in the blasted hospital said to "be prepared" for the worst. Which was a nice way of saying "we don't know what's happening or what's going to happen, so just chill until we know what's going on."

So, what if this bitter, battered person was the new and permanent Yuri? Worse yet, what if this was just a side of Yuri that Victor just hadn't been introduced to yet? Sensing Victor's anxiety, Yurio scampered around the bed and stopped at his superior's side.

"Yuri, what's going on?" he begged. "It's like you're a different person or something… I mean… what are you?" Victor muttered, his mind still trying to catch up. Yuri lifted his head to reveal pure rage glinting in his red, watering eyes. Victor immediately knew he messed up. Before he could try to fix whatever it was he said wrong, Yurio stepped in.

"Victor, maybe we should…. Maybe we should go get some coffee, or something." Yurio suggested gently, his voice tight with emotion. Gentle. Now that was not a word that many people used to describe Yurio Plisetsky. Fiery. Irritable. Wild. But never gentle. Or kind. Or soft. Those were things that Yuri is… was. That's what Yuri was. Victor had the strange feeling that he had actually witnessed a death, rather than a slow comeback from a long coma.

"It's like… like you don't even know who you are…" Victor continued, struggling to convey his thoughts. He wanted Yuri to see the difference between how he was acting and how he really was. Maybe that would help Yuri get back to his normal self.

It didn't seem to be working, because Yuri looked up at Victor with the widest, most horrified eyes.

"I don' know who I am…." Yuri whispered to himself. There was an awkward moment of silence as Victor tried to shut himself up, Yuri struggled through an existential crisis and Yurio wondered how quickly he could kill himself with the objects in the room.

"Victor!" Yurio exclaimed, clapping his hands once. "Come on, man, we need to get that coffee!" Yurio said loudly with false enthusiasm. He tugged on Victor's arm as he gave Yuri a nervous look.

"Let's give him some space." Yurio whispered so softly so only Victor could hardly hear him over the blipping heart monitor. Victor nodded absently, still staring at his student, who was now lying in the fetal position on his side, looking rather scarred. Victor's rapidly deteriorating ego pointed its finger at himself for the cause of Yuri's panic and anger.

Victor allowed himself to be dragged backwards by the elbow out of the room. Once Yurio had closed the door shut tightly, whispering an excuse across the room to an unresponsive Yuri, he whirled to face Victor with a bright red and angry face. Victor took a step back, confusion spreading through his mind.

"Oh, don't give me that look, you know exactly what!" Yurio hissed, his whisper-yell striking Victor like a viper.

"I don't—"

"Of, _course_ you _don't_. Perfect freaking _Victor_ has no _idea_ what the heck he did wrong. Perfect Victor never does _anything_ wrong!" Yurio sneered. Victor was taken aback by the bitter hatred in the boy who once fought for his attention. Victor held up a hand.

"Okay, hold on. How do you even—"

"You don't think before you speak, you don't think before you act— you never think! What the heck is _wrong_ with you?" Yurio's hissing was progressively sliding up the spectrum of sound.

"I could—" Victor yelled back before cutting himself off. He glanced over his shoulder at the nurses who were glaring disapprovingly over the counter where they sat flipping through charts and gossiping about patients. Cringing at the angry stares, he grabbed Yurio's shoulder with more force than necessary and dragged the smaller skater down the hall. When they reached the staircase, Victor yanked the door open and shoved Yuri onto the platform. Yurio slammed into the railing with a clang, catching himself before tumbling down the stairs. Still gripping the rail, he glared over his shoulder like an enraged cat.

"Don't look at me like that!" Victor demanded. "And anyways, I could ask the same about you! Who was it that teased and bullied Yuri for how he looked and skated? Who was it that mocked his tears, huh?" Victor taunted. "Because it sure wasn't me!" Yurio wrinkled his nose, his breathing getting harsher as his anger spiked. "Who was it that berated every little thing he did and downplayed all of his achievements? Who treated everything like a competition, acting as though he had no chance in winning?" Victor pressed. Yurio spun around, shoulders tensing as he stared down the stairwell.

"And who was it that helped him? That supported and coached and improved him?" Victor bit out. "Who held his hand as he cried and hugged him when he was afraid? Who calmed his nerves and helped him get through every day—"

"Oh, boo-hoo! So, I'm an awful friend, I get it! I didn't know about his depression or how much my teasing hurt him! I didn't know his past with bullies or that I was making him relive that every day! I. Didn't. _Know_!" Yurio roared the last word and it echoed powerfully in the empty stairwell. Yurio heaved in breaths, his hair was frazzled and his eyes were red. His grip on the railing tightened. Victor watched his childhood friend's back hunch, tensed like a man with the troubles of the world to bear.

"I thought he was a threat." Yurio admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I thought he was taking you away from me— and I know!" he exclaimed, interrupting himself as Victor tried to get in a word. "I know that he isn't taking my place, that he's just making you able to make a new place for him, or whatever sappy trash you guys call it." Yurio sneered and made a sickened face. "But I thought… at the time… it was like mom all over again." He blurted out. Yurio took in a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against his arms.

"It was like mom choosing another boyfriend over me. That's literally…. That's what it— that's literally what it-it was, yeah. Yep." Yurio dragged a hand down his face, then whirled around to point an accusing finger at Victor. "And make fun of it all you want!" Yurio exclaimed, suddenly sounding defensive. He was surprised to find a sad, lost version of the man he looked up to for strength. "I know it's stupid. I know. But… I don't know, that's just how it was for me. Okay? That's just how it is…" Yuri trailed off, blinking in confusion. "Yuri was… taking my mom from me? What? That… doesn't even make any sense..." Yurio grimaced at his own analogy.

"And I get it, you know?" He continued. "That you guys are something different than you and I are. That no one is taking my place. But sometimes…" Yurio sighed. "Sometimes seeing you guys so… close. It scares me." Yurio admitted turning back away from Victor. He tilted his head and stared up at the ceiling, willing his eyes to dry. "It scares me so much." He whispered in a high voice.

"You're happy he's different." Victor accused, trying very hard to keep that bitter sharpness out of his tone. "You're happy that he doesn't remember."

"Victor!" Yurio yelped. "He's not "different." He's _coping_! You absolute jerk— give the kid a bit of time before you start giving up on him! Let him screw up before you desert him!" Yurio groaned, arms flying around dramatically. "You're both impossible, I swear to— okay, look. Imagine that your life is a struggle. Then you start figuring it out. You've got someone on your side, your problems are clearing up— things are going great. Then you wake up in a new place, surrounded by people you don't know, some that you do know and you have to live with the fact that all those problems are now amplified _and_ you've got emotional, upset people who are hurt that you don't remember them. Imagine how _hard_ that must be. He hasn't changed. He's just having more mental breaks than you're used to." Yurio huffed, brushing past Victor to leave the stairwell. Victor threw a hand out, impulsively and gripped his friend's arm. Yurio wrinkled his nose in disdain.

"I'm sorry." Victor whispered, eyes shining. Yurio eyed him for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." He snapped. He moved to wriggle out of Victor's grip and flounce away, but the fist around his bicep wasn't letting up.

"No, you deserve an apology." Victor countered stubbornly. Yurio gave him an exasperated look before he changed his expression to one of expectance.

"Okay. Have at it." Yurio said, finally giving up. Victor blinked. "The stage is yours. Now apologize— like full apology. And don't screw it up." With that vote of confidence Victor reached out a hand and gripped one of Yurio's in it. Yurio glanced down at their joined hands in confusion, then glanced around the room out of the corners of his eyes to see if anyone was watching.

"Sorry, little brother. I should've noticed your pain." Victor announced solemnly. Yurio's eyes widened in surprise, not expecting to be gifted with such an intimate title. He felt his insides melt and his expression softened into a gentle smile.

No problem… братан." He muttered back. "Now let's go, you still owe me a coffee. I'm dying, here!" Yurio exclaimed melodramatically. Victor grinned at his brother's childishness.

"Of course, lead the way." Victor followed Yurio out of the stairwell, walking just a step behind his shoulder down the bland halls. "You don't have to be scared." Victor said needlessly.

"I know. Yuri's fighting for a piece of your heart. I already have one." Yurio announced proudly, nose in the air rather snottily. Victor grinned, throwing a heavy arm around Yurio's shoulders, making the younger boy squawk indignantly.

"Aw, that's the sweetest thing I've ever heard! Two of my favourite people competing for my heart—"

"Shut up, I can only be sappy for five minutes without throwing up." Yurio grumbled, hip-checking his friend. Victor hardly budged, laughing at Yurio's failed attempt to knock him over. Yurio shot him a glare, but that melted into a huge grin as he saw his brother finally being himself again.

And that's how they entered the cafeteria, smiling at each other like a pair of dorks. When they stepped into the open room, sunlight was streaming in from tall windows and sun roofs. Patients sat bundled in blankets or wearing hospital scrubs with their families, eating and chatting with some level of exhausted cheer. It was easy to spot out Yuri's family because they were the loudest group and they were at a table that was crowded not only with food and drink, but also seemingly random objects sprinkled across the table. Boxes stacked on the floor and chairs nearby, and Yuri's parents were standing up, arguing back and forth across the table while Mari slumped comfortably in a chair, her feet propped up on the table as she sipped from a Styrofoam cup. Upon seeing Victor and Yurio, she waved and dragged a chair over to the table without sitting up.

"Welcome!" she shouted over the loudness of the cafeteria and her parents' yelling.

"What's going on?" Victor asked worriedly, sliding into the chair closest to Mari. He glanced across the table, taking in the clothes and books and dvds and pictures that covered every surface. Yurio scooped up Mari's legs, making the girl flail her arms and spill what seemed to be some kind of milk shake.

"Christ, Yurio!" she exclaimed, choking on a sip of her drink. Yurio sniggered and plopped in the chair, dropping her legs on his lap. At that moment a small, soft blanket fluttered out of nowhere, landing on Yurio.

"What the—!" Yurio thrashed like a fish on deck, fighting off the fleecy blanket.

"Take that, Yurio! Karma's a b—" Mari laughed back before Victor interrupted.

"Mari! Why are your parents throwing random things at each other!" he demanded, ducking as a small shoe went sailing over the top of his head. Mari glanced over at him as if she forgot that he was there.

"Oh, yeah. They're just fighting over what they should bring to Yuri next to see if he remembers anything." She answered absently, leaning back to watch her parents fight.

"You— you're enjoying this aren't you?" Victor asked her incredulously, now watching Yuri's parents a bit closer. Mari shrugged with a devious grin.

"This is the most exciting thing that's happened all week, besides Yuri waking up and you two having a melt-down." Yurio caught onto what Mari was talking about and swiped a small stuffed bear off the table, chucking it at her head.

"Your brother was in a coma, how is that not… exciting…" Victor trailed off, wincing at his own word choice.

"Her brother was sleeping for 3 months. How exciting." Yurio muttered monotonously. Victor glared at him, swiping a sandwich off the table and biting into it moodily.

"Oh, look. They're arguing over the baby blanket and the first pair of shoes." Mari snorted. "I'm guessing that's why you guys got pelted by a blanket and a shoe, then."

"That's ridiculous, no one remembers their first pair of shoes." Yurio muttered, stealing Victor's sandwich. "Go with the blanket. Even if he doesn't remember it, he had it longer than he had his first pair of shoes so it'll be at least a bit of comfort, if nothing else."

"Yurio, did you have a blankie as a child?" Mari asked in a surprised, yet teasing tone to which Yuri snarled at.

"Shut up, all babies have blankets. I was a baby, ergo, I had a blanket."

"Ergo?" Mari snickered.

"Wait, why don't they just show him both?" Victor asked suddenly, thinking it was the obvious solution. Mari gasped loudly and dramatically, her free hand slamming against her chest as if she were thoroughly offended. Yurio raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unimpressed.

"Victor, I am _offended_!" Well that answered that. "How dare you suggest that neither the blanket or the shoes are the best option! How dare you suggest that I am not right in the decision that the blanket— the _holy_ _blanket_ — is not the best decision!" Yurio snickered at Mari's theatrics, offering a dainty clap for her efforts. Mari bowed awkwardly in her seat.

"Okay, okay, you've made your point." Victor rolled his eyes, swatting at her arm.

"Here's an idea—" Yurio spoke up.

"Oh, no." Victor griped with false dread.

"Here it comes." Mari groaned exaggeratedly.

"Stuff it." Yurio muttered. "Mari, you're his older sister, right?"

"As far as I know." Mari admitted.

"Then you know what matters to him, right? Or _what_ mattered to him, anyways." This made Mari lose all dramatic sarcasm and seriously think.

"Actually, I do." She said, standing up. "I even brought it, on the off chance that my parents would turn away long enough for me to sneak it into Yuri's room..." She reached over the arm of her chair and poked at a few boxes, pushing some here or there. Then she stuck her hand in a particularly ratty looking box and rummaged through it, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on searching. "Ah, here it is!" she exclaimed, jumping up and holding the object in the air above her head. A CD. That was her plan. A CD.

"So, what, we just play this for him and he might remember something?" Victor asked, voice painfully hopeful. Mari nodded and passed the CD to him. It was in a plain case with no labels or price stickers to explain what was on the CD, or when or where it had been bought.

"What's on it?" Yurio asked curiously, leaning over Victor's shoulder to see. Mari looked Victor right in the eyes with a knowing smile.

"You." Victor blinked.

"Sorry?"

"You. And him, actually. The songs you skated to or choreographed for him, the countless interviews you did on news channels and gossip stations. Those stupid video diary whatevers you made when you were younger where you talked to your fans on a personal level about random crap. Pictures of you two and your other skating buddies and recordings of both of you skating together... Yeah, he has all of it." Mari held up the CD. "On this." Victor glanced at Yurio out of the corner of his eye, wondering just what kind of embarrassing things he had said in his early career that could be on this CD.

"Dear, God." Victor whispered. Mari only grinned ferally.

...

"Yuri, come on—"

"Yeah, just listen, we don't expect anything—"

"But you _do_!" Yuri protested, sounding agitated. He was sitting up, leaning against several pillows and vehemently denying any knowledge of the CD or what was on it. He was also refusing to watch what was on the CD. When Mari tried to put it into the computer that she set on the side table beside Yuri's bed, Yuri reached over and snagged the device. He was currently hugging it to his chest and would growl when anyone got too close. He was like a rabid… squirrel.

"Yuri, come on. It's just some music, and videos, and stuff— it's not a big deal!" Victor exclaimed, partially trying to convince himself.

"Victor!" Mari and Yurio whirled around to exclaim at him at the same time with different levels of scolding.

"Oh, my God, what did I say _now_?" Victor demanded exasperatedly.

"Victor, just don't…" Maris trailed off, not sure how to say what she wanted.

"Talk." Yurio finished for her. "She means talk— don't talk, Victor. Like, at all. Ever." He clarified. Victor frowned, but obeyed and plopped down onto the window seat, looking out the window with a depressive, moping pout.

"Oh, stop brooding." Mari called over her shoulder.

"I'm not brooding, I'm being…. pensive."

"You're pouting." Yurio observed.

"I'm not—"

"You're pouting, that means you're brooding." Yurio stated.

"Stop talking to me." Victor demanded, turning back to his people-watching-out-the-window obsession.

"Anyways, Yuri. Just watch the thing, okay? Don't try to remember things or anything like that, don't think that we're expecting you to remember things—" Mari tried to explain.

"But you _are_ expecting him to remember things." Victor pointed out.

"Victor—"

"— shut up."

"Fine!"

"Yurio, stop finishing my sentences, it's weird."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Come on, Yuri just give me the computer." Mari said sweetly, like a mother trying to convince her child to handover a bad report card or a secret stash of candy.

"No." Yuri said.

"But Yuri, don't you like music?" Mari asked. Yuri thought for a moment, staring at his sister blankly.

"I don't remember." Mari threw her hands in the air.

"I'm done. Yurio, you try."

"What— how do you not know if you like music or not? They said you remember everything up until the last few years— you're lying so they'll leave you alone, aren't you?" Yuri nodded.

"Victor—"

"— shut up."

"Yurio!"

"I'm _sorry_!"

"Oh, my God— I'll listen it if _that_ one—" Yuri pointed at Victor. "Shuts up and Mari and _that_ one—" he pointed to Yurio. "Leave me alone."

"Sure thing, little brother." Mari accepted the deal. She and Yurio gave Victor a "well?" look.

"No promises, but I'll try." Victor shrugged noncommittedly. Yuri squinted.

"That'll work." He shrugged.

"All right!" Mari grinned, reaching for the player. Yuri snarled and pulled away.

"No, Sis, I want him to do it." Yuri was pointing at Victor again. Victor grinned, somehow feeling privileged and special, as if he had done something right that gain Yuri's trust.

"Sure thing. And just so you know, I want to do this even less than you do." Victor admitted. Yuri cocked his head in confusion, unintentionally killing Victor's already racing heart.

Jeezus.

Cuteness overload, much?

Victor shook his head as if to shake the strange thoughts from his mind. He stepped over to Yuri's bed and accepted the computer, setting it gently on the bedside table. Mari handed him the CD and he popped it in, then settled the computer on Yuri's lap and leaned over the boy's shoulder to see the screen. Yurio and Mari leaned in as well, much to Victor's disappointment. He had hoped they would realize that there might be personal things on the CD— personal to Victor, or Yuri, or even both of them, but it seemed that curiosity had won.

Victor popped it into the computer and pressed play before Yuri could try to. Yuri's shaky muscles struggled with precise, fine motor skills. Even hitting small buttons was difficult, but opening things like water bottles or coffee cans was impossible. He was getting better, however, at things like waving, doing a "thumbs up" and holding light-weight things like a tissue box or a cup. His progression was still all over the place, though the doctors said that there was no definite schedule to when exactly Yuri should regain specific abilities. They said that skills might come suddenly, others may take longer, some abilities might come and go, and others yet may never come again.

Victor bit his lip, thinking about the latter. He was still worried that skating was one of those abilities that may never come back. He worried even more if Yuri remembered how good a skater Victor had helped him become. Victor worried that if Yuri remembered how important to his life skating had become, he might feel even worse if he couldn't skate.

Shaking those depressing thoughts away, Victor turned his attention to the CD. The screen was black but only for a moment. It cut to a video of Victor. He was young, his long silvery hair could attest to that. He had a dark costume on and was skating in dim lighting, almost in the moonlight, it seemed. He twirled and flew across the ice, emotion pouring from his eyes and movements. Victor understood why this video would be so important to Yuri. This was the routine that Yuri had performed for his friend Yuuko. The performance that got videoed and put on nearly every social media website, the video that was thrown across the world from screen to screen, blew up screens and froze view counters. That very costume was the same one that Yuri chose to wear at his first competitive skating event under Victor's teaching.

Victor glanced away from the screen and gauged Yuri's expression. The boy seemed confused, but struck by something stronger than that. He was watching the video with a mesmerized gleam in his dark eyes and a grin was slowly spreading across his pale face.

"Tha's you." Yuri whispered. His arms were hugged almost defensively around his torso, but his body language inferred that he was very interested in the video and was not at all scared or nervous like he had been only moments before.

"That's right. Do you remember why this was important to you?" Victor asked. Yuri bit his lip and stared at the screen as if hoping the answers would spring forth from the video itself.

"I did it. The routine."

"You did. Do you remember why?" Victor asked.

"No. But I was happy I did it." Yuri offered timidly. Victor's broad grin reassured Yuri that he did something right. "But why…" Yuri trailed off.

"Why what?" Mari asked, reaching out to stroke her brother's hair comfortingly. Yuri leaned into the touch, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"Why was it impor'ant tha' you did it?" Yuri shook his head. "Why were you impor'ant ta' me?" he corrected. Victor frowned, thinking hard.

"I… I'm not sure." Victor answered softly. "You saw me as an idol when you were a kid. You wanted to be able to skate like me, I guess. Maybe you even wanted to skate _with_ me." Victor frowned, thinking hard. "Do you remember Yuuko?" He asked uncertainly. Yuri nodded with a big smile, happy to remember something else.

"She' my bes' friend bu' her husband hated me when we were kids. She 'as kids, they're really cute. You know them?" He asked.

"Yes, I know them very well, they came to visit you a few times. Anyways, you and she were a little club of sorts when you were kids. You skated all the time together and you watched me skate on TV, too."

"You skate on TV?" Yuri asked incredulously. Victor nodded and chuckled. It was refreshing to have Yuri back to the stage where he was amazed by everything Victor did. That being said, Victor would trade that feeling any day, if it meant Yuri's memories would come back.

"Yeah, all the time, it seemed."

"Wow…. I wish I could. Do you still skate on TV?" the boy asked hopefully.

"No, I stopped." Victor admitted, not the least bit regretful. He traded his skating career for someone else's. For someone else who deserved every winning gold and TV spotlight.

"Why? Did you not like it an'more?" Yuri looked like someone canceled Christmas.

"I never stopped liking it, it's just that there was something I wanted to do even more. Something that was more important than skating on TV. I wanted to coach somebody special." Victor said.

"Who was the sp'cial person?" Yuri sounded as if there couldn't possibly be anyone worth quitting skating for.

"You." Victor admitted.

"Me?" Yuri asked, looking bewildered. It crushed Victor to see Yuri so surprised that someone would find him to be worth something. Victor only nodded as Yuri stared down at his hands. His face was scrunched with confusion and effort. He was obviously trying his hardest to remember Victor. "I'm sorry." He whispered tearfully.

"Sorry? About what?" Victor asked.

"Can't 'member you." Yuri said defeatedly. "You were a'ways there. And now I can't 'member any of it. I'm sorry." Victor blinked. In less than an hour, Yuri had gone from being weary around Victor, to hating Victor, to accepting Victor, to now apologizing to Victor. Were mood swings a part of the coma recovery package or…?

"It's not your fault." Victor told him. "None of this is your fault. Not the coma, not the amnesia, nothing. You didn't ask for this, you didn't try to make this happen, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then there's no way this could be your fault. This kind of stuff happens randomly to random people. You never see it coming, you never expect it. I'm sure if you expected it, you'd stop it. Right?"

"I don't know." Yuri answered honestly. Victor leaned back suddenly. Inresponse to this, Yuri started speaking quicker, attempting to explain. "I just… I don' know what I would've done. I don' 'member wha' it was like, these pas' few years. Wha' if there was somethin' awful goin' on an' I wanted ta' stop it? Wha' if I knew this would happen an' I made it this way? So I could f'get whatever was going on?" Yuri asked.

"Are you asking…" Victor started in a hushed voice. He couldn't say it. He had seen it. He had heard it. His close friend felt it, lived it, did it. And yet he was still too much a coward to say it out loud, to tell the world how he, Victor Nikiforov, had failed his best, most loyal, most wonderful friend and student.

"Wha' if I wanted ta' f'get? What if—" Yuri swallowed with difficulty. "Wha' if I wanted ta' _die_?" he whispered. "Would it still not be my fault?" Yuri's voice was so soft and sounded so… innocent, for lack of a better word. Victor took in a shuddery breath as Mari turned away so her back was facing Yuri. Her shoulders did an awkward shutter. Yurio awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he scanned the room, seeming very interested with the ceiling as he took long, deep breaths.

"Yuri…." Victor had no idea what to say. What do you say to that sort of thing? What do you say to someone who can't remember but suggests that they might have tried to commit suicide? Victor, for one, had no idea.

"Cuz, guys, I don' 'member people. I don' member moments. I don' 'member songs, or routines, or anythin'. It's like I'm still a kid, skating with Yuuko and watching you on TV. I 'member that now. I 'member seeing you on TV."

"You remember? You remember seeing me?" Victor asked, anticipation rising.

"Yeah, a bit after you said it, 's like the mem'ry jus' popped in my head." Yuri shrugged, looking just as confused and excited as Victor.

"Well, that's good, isn't it? You're remembering— that's good. Maybe we just have to keep telling you things and showing you pieces of your past, and you'll remember!" Victor exclaimed. Yuri grinned and nodded, the distressing moment having passed.

"If that's true, then we should go back to the computer, shouldn't we?" Mari spoke up. Yuri nodded sharply and Victor pressed play for him again. After the dance was a reel of pictures.

The first picture was a selfie of Yuri and Victor together. Picture Yuri was taking a bite out of a huge chocolate, rainbow sprinkled donut while he snuggled into picture Victor's side. Picture Victor had an arm around picture Yuri and the hand of that arm was holding a coffee cup from their favourite café. Picture Yuri seemed to have no idea his image was being captured by the camera, but Victor was grinning up, his free hand obviously being the one that held the camera. The expression on Victor's face made not-picture Yuri tear up. He looked so happy. His hair shined in the light, his eyes sparkled, and the only wrinkles on his face were from smiling. Not-picture Yuri glanced and not-picture Victor. There was a great difference. This Victor looked exhausted. There were bags under his dull eyes, his hair was lank and dead looking, and there were wrinkles on his forehead as if he spent a lot of time concentrating really hard…

Or crying.

Not-picture Yuri suddenly felt a connection to not-picture Victor who claimed (and had strong evidence to prove) that they were both close friends prior to the accident. He also felt a strange detached feeling to himself. The Yuri in the picture looked just like himself. He seemed to be acting just like himself— oblivious and in love with food. But Yuri had no idea who this picture Yuri was. This picture Yuri who was obviously close to the picture Victor, comfortable enough to cuddle up to him. Yuri glanced back at the computer just as the second picture rolled by.

The second picture made Yuri blush deeply. It was a close-up image of he and Victor laughing together in the golden setting sun. It wouldn't be so embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that picture Victor and picture Yuri's foreheads were pressed together, and picture Yuri's fingertips were resting on picture Victor's face. Their eyes were closed, their grins were wide, and it looked like they were wearing matching sweatshirts in deep blue, though Yuri couldn't tell what words were written across the front of them.

"Ah, yes. The day on the beach." Victor grinned.

"What did we do?" Yuri asked.

"Nothing much. You almost drowned in the ocean, we bought poopsicles, Makkachin got chased by a crab, our sandcastle was attacked by birds…."

"Why did we take a picture? Why were we smiling? What were we talking about when we took it? Who took the picture?" Yuri babbled, wanting all the pictures and answers in the world so that he could try to remember.

"Well, there was a guy taking pictures for a brochure of the beach and he asked if he could take one of us. He said he couldn't promise that it would get into a brochure, but that we looked so happy that he felt it would really touch the hearts of people or something." Victor shook his head and grinned at the memory. "I said "yes" and was about to hug you, but you said "no" at the same time. Then I said "no," and you said "yes" but, again, we said it at the same time. We did it a third time before laughing our heads off— the photographer snapped a picture of us right in that moment." Victor's grin was radiant and it captured Yuri's attention. It sparkled. Yuri liked things that sparkled. As if feeling eyes on him, Victor glanced down at Yuri. Yuri quickly looked away just as the third picture was rolling by, willing himself to remember something— anything. A smell. A sound. A feeling. anything.

The third picture included Yurio. A grumpy looking Yurio with a black and red paint splattered sweatshirt had his arms crossed as he was pulled into a three-way hug by Victor. Yuri was on the other side of Victor, his arms flailing out in front of him as he was dragged backwards by his midsection, Victor's strong arm tugging him back to his chest. Victor was grinning brightly up at the camera as if he was the happiest man in the world. The image was a bit blurred as the people in the picture seemed to be falling, or trying to pull away, in Yurio's case.

Not-picture Yuri grinned. The affection on picture Victor's face and the irritation on picture Yurio's face made Yuri's insides tingle pleasantly, as if the friendship shown in the photo was oozing out and contaminating whoever looked at it. A platonic love reached out of Yuri's heart to the two strangers who called themselves his friends. Yurio and Yuri obviously held a brotherly kind of friendship, though Yurio seemed to really not want to admit how much he cared about anyone.

Victor, on the other hand, was a bit harder to define. Victor was obviously close to Yuri, but how close was a bit harder to figure out.

Sometimes Victor seemed like a father figure or a mentor. He kept telling Yuri to take his time. Don't try to remember too hard. Be careful when trying to sit up.

Other times, he seemed like a close friend. How he got exasperated when Yuri couldn't figure something out or remember, how he was willing to steal extra red Jello from the cafeteria because he knew that Yuri hated the green kind and the green kind was sold five days of the week.

And other times he seemed like a… Yuri blushed deeply as the word "lover" flittered through his mind. Sometimes, Yuri would wake up to find Victor lying on the bed next to him, holding him close. Sometimes he would wake up and hear Victor talking to him, telling him how beautiful, and strong, and kind, and talented, and loved he was— which would have all been lovely, had Yuri any recollection of who this man was. It was rather disturbing to wake up next to a stranger who's giving you all these great compliments, no matter how many reliable sources tell you that the stranger is actually your friend. Yuri sighed, looking away when Victor gave him a concerned look.

Never fall into a coma.

Everything gets much more complicated. Amnesia is awful, too.

Not that you'll remember, though.

 **AN:**

 **I may doodle up some of the pictures the fam saw on the laptop if I get bored. Let me know if anyone has any art that kind of looks like what I was picturing, or if they're interested in my doodles. Fanart gives me life.**

 **Also, I know my writing style was a bit different this go around. I have like multi-writing style disorder or something (I'm not making fun of multi-personality disorder, trust me. That ish sucks, I'm just trying to analogy). It was also fun to play with Mari, Yurio and Victor. They're kind of the "survivors." Yuri's closest surviving fam.**

 **Again, super apologies for the lateness— the struggle is real with the inspiration and whatnot so… you guys should totally hit me up with your ideas. I'm trying to make you do my job for me, but if there's stuff you know you want, don't make me guess for it, let me know!**

 **Also, these stories are getting edited less and less as I go along. I literally edited the first chapter around 10 to 15 times. I edited this recent chapter once. Actually, I edited half of it. Don't hate me I'm sorry I love you.**

 **If any of you actually read author's notes, PM me your favourite colour. It's for serious research purposes.**


	9. On: Walking Away

**AN:**

 **WHAT IS INSPIRATION**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice.**

 **Hey, hope you guys are doing okay, if you're not, hit me up and vent about it. Even if it's about how FLIPPING late this chapter is.**

 **I'm struggling with this story, and I'm sure as a writer I'm not supposed to let you guys know how out of inspiration I am butttttttt…. I feel like I can talk to you guys on a personal level.**

 **The lovely HermioneGirl96 requested more alone time between Yuri and Victor (who wouldn't want that, am I right?), so here is an attempt to get them alone some more, though there will be a lot more later on. Of course, it'll be a bit weird for them and alone time won't happen often because, to Yuri, these two are strangers. Imagine waking up and suddenly finding men all up in your grill saying they're besties with you while you have no idea who they are and, for all you know, they could actually be total creepers. Kinda weird, yeah? I'll work out the kinks— no worrries!**

 **Also, I've tried to figure out how to do line breaks or whatever you call them BUT IT'S NOT WORKIN'. If anyone wants to send a quick splurge on how to make line breaks so my story has a bit more structure and, well, sense to it— I will appreciate you more than tacos.**

 **And without further ado, Let the show begin!**

Ch9— On: Waking Away

" _This was a bad idea."_

" _It was not, you're just nervous."_

" _Bad idea. Bad. So bad. Much bad. So very much bad."_

" _Calm down—"_

" _Calm down?! How the heck am I supposed to calm down?"_

" _It's going to be fine, just…. Calm down?"_

" _Gah!" Yuri shrieked in frustration, arms flailing around his head as he found himself unable to verbalize his frustration. Victor sighed heavily and dropped his forehead into his hand. Yuri was sitting on a blue check-up table, a piece of paper crinkling underneath him. It was his first check-up since going home. Today would make or break everything. If Yuri had even slightly crossed an invisible, vague line into the land of symptoms, he'd have to be readmitted into the hospital until he was fully healed. Which was unacceptable, of course._

 _Yuri was only allowed home in the first place because the therapist taught Victor how to assist Yuri with his stretches and exercises. The nurses gave him strict instructions about over the counter medication Yuri would need for the pain, possible swelling and other lovely problems that come from pitching yourself off a cliff. And both the therapists and the nurses ganged up on one of the nice doctors, and they practically forced the doctor to let Yuri go home. The catch was that there had to be monthly check-ups and if after the first month of staying in Victor's care, Yuri showed any signs of relapse, withdrawal or anything like it, Yuri would be returned to the hospital for the duration of his healing. Which was going to be several more months._

 _The list of limitations and the rules Yuri and Victor had to follow made a huge list._

 _No standing without the use of the cane (the cane which Yuri was extremely embarrassed to use and therefore hardly ever used)._

 _No walking without supervision (except Yuri never asked for help to go to the bathroom. Too embarrassing)._

 _No running, jumping or going up any stairs at all (Yuri's room was on the second floor… faulty planning on Victor's part)._

 _Take the meds prescribed, follow the recommended diet chart, and the stretching/exercising schedule (that was actually followed extremely strictly. Victor had no tolerance for med-skipping and lazing around, he forced medication down Yuri's throat and would carry him downstairs for excersizes is need be)._

 _No excitement (well….). Examples of excitement: too many new people (parties, highly populated places such as stores, etc), scary/adventure films, competition (no tactile sports: football, no sports involving strain: swimming, absolutely no video games), fighting (verbal or physical), etc._

 _And the list went on. Both Victor and Yuri found the list to be ridiculous. They couldn't even play checkers because Yuri always got way to emotionally invested, and Yurio wasn't allowed to talk if he came to visit because he always got Yuri riled up._

" _It's going to be okay. You look fine, you're moving fine, you said you feel fine— what could go wrong?" as soon as Victor asked the innocent question, he knew he shouldn't have. Yuri glared at him._

" _Don't. Jinx me." Yuri ordered, stabbing his finger at Victor's face to punctuate his words. Victor nodded jerkily, sinking further back into his stiff chair. There was a sharp rap on the door, making both boys jump._

" _Come in!" Victor called, blushing as his anxiety showed through his cracking voice. Yuri hardly noticed, and was practically chewing his lip raw._

" _Good morning, boys. How are we today?" a doctor asked, closing the door softly behind himself. Dear Lord. It was the obnoxious, fake blonde doctor who thought he was God himself. Victor mentally rolled his eyes as Yuri answered with a flat voice, asking the doctor how he was in return._

" _I'm well, thank you, Yuri. Now, tell me," the doctor implored, sitting on a chair and looking up at Yuri expectantly. "Is Victor treating you alright? Have you been getting on okay? He's helping you with your exercises and meal plans?" Victor felt a slight twinge of anger. Who did this guy think he was, coming in here and asking if Victor was "treating him alright?" Victor understood that this was a checkup for not only Yuri's health, but also Victor's ability to help Yuri, but the doctor seemed to be coming off as skeptical of Victor's abilities and was, quite frankly, pissing Victor off. This doctor had been in the room for not even five minutes and Victor was already 200% done with the man. Yuri, however, was grinning with a passive-aggressive sweetness, murder shining in his eyes._

" _He is just lovely, let me tell you. Always making sure I've eaten enough, always making sure I have enough blankets, always making sure I feel okay— he's just so helpful, I'm so thankful for him." Yuri went on dreamily, grinning softly at Victor. Victor sniggered behind a hand as the doctor blinked in surprise._

" _Well that's wonderful, Yuri!" he exclaimed, looked so happy it seemed to constipate him. "But there is something of concern…" the doctor trailed off, an overexaggerated sadness spreading across his features. Yuri tensed, knee beginning to bounce with nervous tension. Victor's heart beat like a racing rabbit chased by a fox. A certain blonde fox with a medical degree (supposed medical degree)._

" _What do you mean "concern," I feel fine?" Yuri asked uncertainly, looking to Victor as for confirmation. Victor could only stare straight ahead at the doctor who was smiling apologetically, looking like a snake._

" _Well, we found that your blood levels are low in iron and oxygen. This is pretty common in people as young as you. Young people tend to not eat as healthily as middle-aged people, but levels are generally never this low." The doctor handed a sheet of paper to Victor. Victor took it, working on autopilot. He held it in his hands, which rested on his lap._

" _This is a breakdown of your blood glucose levels, blood pressure and other important vitals we took and analyzed. Your blood pressure and glucose levels are dangerously low, we were wondering if maybe you weren't eating as correctly as you're letting on." The doctor smiled understandingly._

" _He eats every day, and I follow the instructions for his meals exactly!" Victor exclaimed. Yuri reached over and patted his knee comfortingly. Victor captured his friend's hand, squeezing it in both of his own._

" _In any case, our biggest worry is…. Well, we think you may have injuries. We might have to do a full body examination."_

" _Injuries?" Yuri asked, sounding confused. The doctor nodded, glancing at Victor, then pointedly looking down at their clasped hands. Victor felt his blood boil._

" _You think… he hits me?" Yuri whispered, sounding thoroughly offended. He gripped Victor's hand with a suffocating clench. The doctor looked suddenly a bit uncomfortable and began to say something, probably to ease the brute rudeness of what he had just said, but Yuri interrupted him with surprising fire._

" _No, you don't get to speak. You get to listen— for once in your life, listen." Yuri laughed bitterly. "I mean, how dare you? Victor is nothing but a saint to me. An angel, a godsend! He puts my needs before his own and he does everything he can to help me. He goes above and beyond! He would never hurt me!" he hissed angrily and with such force that the colour drained from the doctor's face._

" _Okay, okay, I apologize. It was not my intent to accuse anyone of anything or to step on any toes. But I have to ask… if it isn't that someone is hurting you, is it you that is hurting yourself?" Victor froze._

" _I'm not sure what you mean." Yuri said hesitantly._

" _Yuri… I'm wondering if you are hurting yourself. For example, are you cutting yourself?" Victor flinched, remembering a similar conversation and Yuri brought his second hand down to pat Victor's hair softly. "Would you mind taking your shirt off, just to prove it." The doctor said. Victor thought it was odd that he wouldn't ask for proof that Victor hadn't hurt Yuri, but he chalked it up to Yuri having scared the whizz out of the doctor. Yuri glanced at Victor, as if to ask what he should do. Victor nodded, squeezing his hand. Yuri retracted his hand slowly and began shimmying out of his shirt._

 _The doctor gasped, all false cheer and sympathy lost for legitimate shock and horror as he sent a very catholic prayer up to the heavens. Victor fell out his chair, the whole thing clattering over behind him. All up and down Yuri's arms were scratches and slashes ranging in length from a few centimeters to a few inches. They were at varying stages of healing as well. Some were angry and red, others were purplish or white scars. Some were wrapped as if they had been inflicted recently and others had colourful band-aids stuck on them. Victor reached out to Yuri's arms, but halted his movement when he was a breath away from touching Yuri. He glanced up to Yuri's face to see tears streaming— pouring out of beautiful eyes._

" _I'm s— I'm s-orry— s-s-sorry!" Yuri stuttered hysterically, fists rubbing at his eyes. Victor gently grasped Yuri by the wrists, pulling the skater's fists away from his abused eyes._

" _No…. no, I should've noticed…. I…" Victor didn't know what to say. "I'm supposed to take care of you and I…"_

" _No! Victor do not blame this on yourself, you are not my keeper. You are not responsible for everything I do. You did not do this." Yuri hissed dramatically. Victor just looked down, biting his lip with frustration. A smothering silence spread for a moment._

" _I will be forced to recommend Yuri's immediate readmittance into the hospital. I hope you understand" The doctor stated in an oddly cold voice. He stood up fluidly and stuffed his clipboard under his arm._

" _What— no! You can't!" Yuri exclaimed through tears. The doctor smiled gently, patting Yuri on the head as the boy looked up with red eyes._

" _But Yuri, I can." He said condescendingly. Victor whirled around, smacking the doctor's hands off his Yuri._

" _Don't touch him!" Victor snarled as Yuri cowered behind him._

" _Oh, don't worry. I won't have to." The doctor responded cryptically, like a cheesy villain in a bad TV show. The doctor snapped his fingers and in came three large security officers wielding tasers, and a few nurses pushing a bed on squeaky wheels filed him behind them._

" _Come in boys, take him to his old room. Have the nurses sedate him and don't let any of his family in, we don't want him getting overexcited, now do we? Might hurt the patient." The doctor said, an overly sweet grin spreading across his face. The nurses and officers nodded mechanically and began to advance like trained soldiers._

" _You can't force him to be admitted!" Victor exclaimed indignantly, backing up so he pressed against the table Yuri still sat on. Yuri wrapped his arms around Victor's neck and his legs around Victor's waist, clenching for dear life like a baby animal._

" _Victor, I deem you as an improper care provider and, under your protection, Yuri has become very sick. If you withdraw him from hospital care, I'll have you brought up on negligence charges. And I'm sure you see that I have a very good case." The doctor made a broad swoop with his arm, gesturing at Yuri._

" _What?" Victor asked, feeling very detached. He reached around, gripping on of Yuri's elbows as if that little connection was enough to keep them both safe from the doctor and his evil nurses and security officers._

" _Yuri has a number of health problems, all of which will only be amplified if he continues to suffer this way in your care. He needs help. You need help." The officers reached out like scary grabby hands in a horror movie. The tall, skinny guard pulled Victor away from Yuri while the two buffer ones were lifting Yuri off the table._

 _Yuri thrashed in their grip and howled and shrieked like a wild animal, but the guards seemed to be handling him with ease. Victor strained against the deceptively thin, strong arms that held him captive. He felt the officer's hands bruising him with a tight grip, he felt his feet slipping uselessly across the floor as he was dragged away from Yuri. It was so frustrating— all he had to do was stand up on his own feet and he'd be able to fight of the guard, but he couldn't get up. It was like the floor was oiled or waxed._

 _One of the nurses started rummaging around in the drawers to the cabinets lining the corner of the room behind the doctor. As Victor and Yuri wriggled and thrashed in the grips of their captors, the nurse pulled something out the drawer. Her back was to Victor, so he couldn't see what she was doing, even if he craned his neck, which he didn't do. He was a bit more occupied with the guard who was now full on hugging Victor to keep him from escaping. It was very awkward. The guy smelled like flowers. The nurse suddenly turned around and in her hand was a long needle, which she was flicking a nail against._

" _What's that?" Yuri demanded. The nurse didn't respond._

" _I said, what is it?" Yuri repeated, louder. The nurse sighed._

" _Sedative." She said in a monotonous voice as she stepped closer to him._

" _You can't sedate him— you can't take him like this!" Victor babbled uselessly. "Yuri, fight— fight them, Yuri!" he shouted uselessly. As if Yuri wasn't doing everything he could to get free. The problem was that, in his weakened state, there was no way he was going to fight off two ripped, trained officers._

" _What do you think I'm doing?!" Yuri shouted, obviously realizing the same thing that Victor did. His voice raw with overuse from screaming, which oddly panged Victor's chest. Victor refrained from answering, mostly because he was tirelessly flailing around like a three-year-old being dragged unwillingly into pre-school. Then the officer began dragging Victor by the underarms out of the room. Victor's heels dragged across the ground and he kicked, hoping to kick high enough to send his foot over his own head to hit the guard in the face, but the guard was unaffected. As he was pulled down the hall, Victor finally glanced over to check on Yuri, who was being wrestled onto the wheeling bed. Thick padded straps wrapped around his arms and legs and were chained by the guards. The nurse with the long needle then stepped over to Yuri with a menacing, yet emotionless face._

" _Get away from him!" Victor shouted pointlessly. "Don't touch him!" the nurse looked up at Victor and sunk the think into Yuri's arm, now grinning maniacally at him._

 _What._

 _The._

 _Heck._

 _It was like some freak asylum horror movie that Yuri would convince Victor to watch and get himself so terrified that he needed to cuddle up to or even sleep with Victor to get through the nightmares and terrorizing thoughts._

" _You're all crazy!" Victor shouted, rage fueling his body like an inferno. He tore his arms out of the officer's grip, jabbing his elbow into the other man's face. Pain zapped down his arm from the officer grunted in pain and flopped backwards, head smacking the hard tile floor. Victor took off, forcing his body to move faster as he relished in his luck._

 _Everything began to move in slow motion. Victor felt hyperaware of everything. His hair fluttered around his face and dropped into his eyes. His feet pounded against the floor. His arms swung wildly at his sides. The officers that had manhandled Yuri raised their tasers. They shouted something with deep, authoritative voices. The guards began charging at him head on. Victor somehow managed to duck under their arms and avoid their tasers. He raced over to Yuri's bed. He stretched out a hand to reach out to Yuri, who was obviously feeling the effects of the sedative. The boy raised an arm weakly and their fingers almost met before Victor was yanked back so suddenly, so forcefully that his teeth rattled. He felt the world tilt and he slammed against something hard. He glanced up to see Yuri's two officers. They held him in place but didn't move to cuff or shoot him, which confused Victor. Ahead of him, the nurses began pushing Yuri's bed down the long hall and away from Victor, who still stretched his hand out._

" _Yuri!" he shouted uselessly, on the verge of tears. He heard his own name shouted faintly by Yuri was trying to sit up. Victor continued to stretch his arm out and grasp at the air as if he could bring his friend back just by reaching out. The bed continued to roll down the hall until it was so far away, Victor couldn't see it anymore._

" _Yuri!" Victor shrieked, now sobbing like a scared child. He then began shouting a chant— a mantra— in an unearthly, growling voice._

" _Bring him back— bring him ba—"_

" _Vict'r… up…. ease!"_

" _Bring him back— bring him back—"_

" _Vict'r…. here… up!"_

" _BRING HIM BACK— BRING HIM BA—"_

"Wake _up,_ Vict'r!"

Victor's eyes snapped open and he surged upward as if he were rising from the dead. It felt like he had been doused in cold water. He shivered and shook head to toe, adrenaline and pure fear coursing through his veins. His heart beat frantically and he clawed at anything nearby, desperate to latch onto something to ground himself with.

"Vict'r—"

He couldn't breathe, his chest was tight and aching.

"Woah—uh, calm down— I'm here, I'm righ' here!"

The moonlight streamed in through the window in a silvery glow and the room was almost pitch black. A menacingly calm pitch black that seemed to mock the terror and sense of loss Victor felt tearing through him.

"Vict'r, I'm here! I am, hear me— please, I'm here! Please stop yelling', the nurs's said if you cause any dis'urbances tha' you won' be able to stay wi' me an'more an' it seems like you a'ways wanna stay here, so shu' up!"

Horrifying shadows stretched across the floor like demons crawling their way up from the pits of Hell. Reaching out to snag someone back down with them, reaching out to cut or choke.

"Sh! Vict'r, please! I'm here, you don' have ta' beg 'em ta' bring me back— I'm already here! Hush, or we'll both get in trouble!"

Victor felt awareness slowly dawn on him like a microwave warming up something frozen.

"Vict'r, please. I've got you!"

He heard a pleading, broken voice and a frantic, whispered shouting.

He felt his own lips moving, his throat buzzing as if vibrating— Victor suddenly realized that it was his own heartbroken sobbing voice that was piercing the air.

Victor looked up, trying to recognize his surroundings.

Colors, fabrics, pictures— anything he could use to deduce his location would help. He was sitting on the hard, blue chair by a hospital bed, his torso lazily draped across the edge of that bed. His hands were gripping the scratchy blanket that spread across the bed and there was something moving the bed other than himself. Something on the bed was shaking the bed. And something was shaking him, too. Victor looked up to see something… stunning.

A boy with hair dark as night sat upright on the bed. He had a white hospital gown that complimented his porcelain skin nicely. The moon shone in the boy's dark eyes, lighting them up like a chandelier. They sparkled with tears, which made Victor sad. Something so pretty shouldn't cry. Something that pretty should be protected. Wait. Victor knows that person. Wait.

Victor's slow thoughts suddenly caught up at once like a train crash.

It was Yuri that sat on the bed.

It was Yuri shaking Victor by the shoulders with an iron grip, jolting the bed and making the aged plastic creak.

Yuri's eyes were welling with tears and his voice warbled as he demanded that Victor wake up, as he told Victor he was there, as he told Victor to calm down.

"Y-Yu…" Victor attempted, only to find his mouth dry, voice painfully raspy.

"Yes, yes, 's me! 'S me, 's Yuri!" Yuri's face could make the sun jealous. Victor took a shuddery breath, trying to focus. He squeezed his eyes shut as he willed himself to calm down.

"Gosh, you're shakin' like a leaf— here, ge' on tha' bed w'me. 'S either shock 'r hypothermia. My guess's tha's the former." Yuri ordered in his still slurring speech. He scooted over awkwardly and patted the edge of the bed. Victor blinked up at him.

"What." He uttered. Yuri blushed. "Come on, we're s'posed ta' be best friends, right? This 's what best friends do… right?"

"Uh, not rea— ah, never mind." Victor muttered, suddenly understanding how much her needed this. Needed to be close to someone he thought he lost a million times over. It felt as if Yuri had just been torn away again. Reality poked at him, telling him that he never lost Yuri. Reality told him Yuri was just a bit confused with his memories, but no one took him. Physically. No one took him physically. And since Yuri seemed relatively okay with Victor now— the boy just said he wouldn't mind sharing a bed, that's more than _relatively_ okay.

Victor stood up shakily, feeling a bit disconnected. Yuri reached out to hold his hands for support and Victor secretly reveled in the warmth and softness of those delicate hands. The hands he could never forget.

 _The hands he held when he felt himself was falling apart._

He took a shuddery breath as he eased onto the bed.

 _When his emotions were boiling over the brim, his demons threatening to take over_.

He laid down stiffly, staying as close to the edge as he could.

 _The hands who held his pieces together when he feared he would shatter, his protective barrier being made of ceramic and china— fragile and easy to break._

As far away from Yuri.

 _The hands he had restrained when they attempted to hurt the innocent— when they attempted to hurt their owner._

Far away from the innocence he hurt.

 _When those hands shook and trembled with anything akin to fear, or loss, or desperation, he would grab them close, reassuring with his own presence._

Far away from—

"Come over here, you're gonna fall off." Yuri ordered rather gruffly. Victor looked surprised at his sudden demanding, frank tone. "Hey, I jus' wanna go ta' bed and you fallin' off the bed isn't gonna help me, so get over here." Victor bit his lip conflictedly and shuffled closer. Yuri rolled his eyes at the short distance Victor had moved and reached out. He grasped Victor's arm, pulling the larger man close, and rolled the rest of the distance between them so they were almost touching, almost chest to chest. Almost forehead to forehead. Almost nose to nose. Almost lip to—

"Uh, are you sure— I mean, you still don't remember me and all—" Victor asked jerkily, interrupting his own thoughts.

"Victor. From wha' I've seen, you're a great guy." Yuri said matter-of-factly. "You bring me jello an' things to do, like books an' stuff. You care for my parents an' my sister whene'er you aren't here— though you always seem ta' be here. You're always there ta' listen if I wanna talk— you're here for me, an' I get tha' now. So… I'm goin' ta' try very hard to remember you from now on." This was music to Victor's ears. He felt a grin almost split his face.

"Thank you." he said softly, feeling wetness on his cheeks. "Thank you." Yuri smiled sadly and reached out.

Victor practically pounced. He burrowed into his friend's arms, hiding his face in Yuri's pale neck, tears still falling. Yuri whispered sweet nothings gently in Victor's ear and Victor sighed, giving a soft hum of appreciation at the calm, low voice. Yuri's arms were tight around Victor, grounding him to the present. He felt those hands gently rubbing his back, soothing tension and stress away, leaving Victor feeling like melting butter. Victor took a deep breath, basking in the comforting smell and touch of Yuri. Though the hospital smells of sanitizer and medication permeated the air, the sweet vanilla and grass and sun and flowers smell from Yuri still danced and waved in the air.

"Thank you." Victor whispered. He heard a shuddery breath and glanced up to see Yuri's eyes still tearing up. "What? What's wrong?" Victor asked gently, swiping a rolling tear from Yuri's cheek. Yuri shook his head, leaning into Victor's hand. Victor felt something warm burst in his chest. He had been waiting for this for so long. Waiting for Yuri to trust him like this.

"You jus'… you talked. While you dreamt. You said things.  
Um, anyways…." Yuri said sharply. Noting that Yuri obviously didn't want to talk about it, Victor just nodded and changed the subject.

"So, why are you suddenly… okay with this? I mean, I understand that you appreciate me helping you and your family, but you must have noticed that before now. Why suddenly are you so comfortable with me? I don't want you to feel rushed or like you're expected to."

"You…. talked while you dreamt." Yuri repeated.

"Ah, you said that… Wait, what did I say?" Victor asked, feeling his cheeks burning up. Dear Lord, he hoped he didn't say anything inappropriate.

"You tol' me it was okay. You said it was gonna be okay. You told someone to leave me 'lone— to not touch me. You tol' me to fight. You believed tha' I could. But you… how you said my name… you jus'…" Yuri bit his lip in frustration, sitting up. Victor followed him up and leaned his head around, trying to watch his friend's eyes. Yuri was making it rather difficult, by constantly ducking or looking away. Yuri started playing with his hands on his lap. "You soun'ed so lost. So broken. So, hurt. There was so much care in your voice. So much—" Yuri broke off, flashing his eyes up to Victor for a millisecond before looking back down.

"You said it w' love. w' all the adoration in the world. Like, I was the most impor'ant thing." Victor wanted desperately to confirm these feelings, but he knew that Yuri needed to talk, needed to get this off his chest. "And I feel _awful_."

Victor blinked.

"I _am_ _awful_."

Victor cocked his head.

"I'm the worst human bein' who ever disgraced tha Earth w' his awful, awful, horrid, vile presence. I don' d'serve your lo-care… I don' deserve anythin'. I—"

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there." Victor announced, holding a palm up. Yuri looked surprised, as if he had forgotten Victor was there. Victor hoped that wasn't true. "How in the world are you awful? Or vile? Or— what did you say, horrid? How are you anything but… amazing?" Victor wanted to bash his head against the wall. You can't say stuff like that to someone who just decided to give you a chance— now he sounded like a creeper!

"Ah— I mean— well—er…" Victor immediately flew into recovery mode and attempted to fix his mistake, but couldn't formulate the words. Yuri just blushed lightly and laughed while Victor covered his face with his hands and groaned.

"God, kill me." Victor muttered. He felt something warm on his arm and looked over to see a grinning Yuri patting his arm.

"Don' worry, I think it's sweet." He grinned brightly, fingers clutching lightly at Victor's sweater sleeve. Yuri felt slightly (and distractedly) awed at the softness of Victor's sweater. He leaned closer and lay his head tentatively on Victor's arm, honey coloured eyes not leaving silvery ones. Yuri softly nuzzled his face into Victor's sweater, breathing in the soft smell of detergent cleanness and body wash musk. He missed that smell.

All the hospital things smelled like chemicals. All the hospital things were scratchy, and thin, and cold. Victor smelled like happiness. And he was warm. And soft. Yuri winced at his own thoughts.

Victor stared down at the top of Yuri's head, eyes wide with shock. A slow grin spread across his face and he hesitantly leant his head down. He dropped his nose into Yuri's hair. He wrinkled his nose at the surface smell of disinfectant. Under those harsh, blinding smells, however, there was something uniquely Yuri. Something homey, and perfect that reminded Victor of love and skating and pork cutlet bowls and screaming triplets and lazy sisters and loving parental figures and holding hands and sunsets and irritable blondes and everything that was right with the world.

Victor felt like a sap.

It could be worse.

Yuri sighed, his breathing slowing into a steady lullaby.

It could be worse.

...

"Hey."

Victor screwed his face up, keeping his eyes closed. It was so warm and soft and he didn't want to wake up.

"Yo, Victor."

Now Victor really didn't want to wake up. Something next to him stirred and groaned. Victor threw out an arm and wrapped around the thing. The wriggling and soft complaints ended swiftly and all was silent again.

"Victor!" the voice was louder, more demanding.

"Sh!" Victor hissed back. He glanced up wearily to see Yurio standing above him, fists on his hips, staring down at Victor expectantly. The lump on the bed beside Victor wriggled.

Well dang.

Yuri was laying right next to him.

"Данг" he muttered in his native tongue, surprise catching him like the Grim Reaper. The lump beside him whined and rolled onto its back, head lolling to the side.

"Victor—"

"Oh my God, shut up!" Victor whisper shouted, wrapping a free arm around Yuri's head, trying to block the sounds of loud voices from reaching his sleeping friend. "Jeezus, he got almost no sleep last night, can you shove a sock in it for a second?" Victor demanded, glaring up at his youngest friend. Yurio rolled his eyes and nodded reluctantly, plopping down dramatically in the hard, blue chair. Victor returned his attention to Yuri, pulling the thin blankets up to cover his healing friend. He stopped for a moment, remembering Yuri's fascination with his sweater. Pulling his white, knitted sweater off to reveal a thin grey shirt, Victor stuffed the sweater into Yuri's arms. He grinned as the boy clenched his arms around the sweater and nuzzled his face in it, smiling sweetly in his sleep. Victor glanced back at Yurio.

"What." He demanded flatly. Yurio gave him a pained expression. Well, pained for Yurio, anyways. "What?" he asked softer, worry etching into his words. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he asked urgently, eyes sweeping over Yurio from head to foot to check for injuries, exhaustion, malnutrition— anything his frantic mind could come up with that was bad. Yurio jumped up at the franticness of Victor's words.

"No, nothing like that!" Yurio stood directly in front of Victor as if to prove his own health and safeness. Victor looked visibly relieved.

"God, don't scare me like that little brother." He groaned at Yurio. "What is it?"

"His parents are fighting again." Yurio answered moodily, sinking onto the bed by the sleeping Yuri's feet. Yurio lay back, head dangling off the edge of the bed. His hair was so long, the golden strands brushed the floor when he tilted his head all the way back. Victor sighed.

"What about?" he asked softly, trying to keep his voice low enough that it wouldn't wake Yuri. Cocking his head as he began to hear the rising voices of an annoyed, stressed couple.

"Guess."

"Therapy."

"Winner, winner." Victor sighed again, sitting up. He began struggling into a bulky, light sweatshirt.

"Might as well go clean up their mess." He muttered, feeling like a martyr. "I don't want to deal with this." He said truthfully.

"Yeah, but you and I both know that there's no one else who can do this without destroying a marriage or a "family friendship" or whatever it is we're salvaging these days."

Victor sighed heavily and shuffled over to the door in bare feet. His long, hospital issued pants reached the floor, his heels stepping on the hem. When he reached the door he stopped, drooping like an old, weary man. He reluctantly reached a sluggish arm out to the door and turned the handle, pushing the door open without stepping out into the hallway. He threw his head to the side, casting a pout at Yurio who had stood up, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently on the tiled floor. Yurio put one hand on his hip and pointed with a punching force at the door. Victor tilted his head back, eyes closed as he gave a loud sigh again. He peeked one eye open to see Yurio shaking his head at him. Victor stepped into the hallway, closing the door silently behind him.

Just down the hall, Victor saw Yuri's parents angrily arguing at each other. Mrs. Katsuki was throwing her arms around, speaking (yelling) rapidly with her husband, whose face was becoming dangerously red. Victor jogged down the hall, feeling his energy draining with every step. Upon seeing Victor approach, Mr. Katsuki tapped his wife on the shoulder and pointed down the hall at Victor, obviously trying to hide the fact that they were fighting.

"Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki, how are you today?" Victor asked, his brilliant smile visibly a bit dimmer. When he got closer, he realized how aged Yuri's parents had become. Streaks of grey hair and deep face wrinkles showed signs of stress and pain in both parents.

"We're just fine, thank you. And how are you, have you eaten yet?" Mrs. Katsuki asked with a strained smile that didn't meet her eyes.

"Oh, I'm—" Victor dropped pretense. "Look, you guys have to stop fighting. Okay? It stresses Yuri out. He's still sleeping, and I'd like him to get as much rest as he can, so you have to keep it down out here, okay? And if you can't decide which one of you will go to therapy with Yuri, why not just choose Mari?" Victor demanded in a sharp whisper, accepting a pair of bedroom slippers from a nurse who tutted and glared at his bare-footed state. He gave her an apologetic smile and slipped the fuzzy slippers onto his cold feet.

"Victor, Mari doesn't want to go to his therapy, we asked her already."

"Why wouldn't she? She's so supportive of him and—"

"Said something about… not wanting to be emotionally associated with the frustration and loss that may bleed into Yuri's feelings about her." Mrs. Katsuki answered impatiently.

"I think she'd just rather stay home and sleep in, instead of go to a therapy session at five in the morning." Mr. Katsuki added, pinching the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. Victor eyed him curiously and turned his attention to Mrs. Katsuki.

"Okay, why not rocker-paper-scissors for it?" Victor asked. The Katsuki's looked at Victor blankly before Mr. Katsuki broke into a grin.

"Ah, the wisdom of the youth." He said with a tired sort of grin, looking twice his age. Victor grinned tentatively and Mrs. Katsuki looked a little less than pleased.

"Victor, please. This really is a family matter. And I appreciate that you've been there for Yuri and I don't mean to be rude, or exclude you, but this is private." She said kindly, sounding tired and irritable. Victor stepped back, hands in the air, despite the twinge his heart felt.

"It's just…. I'm sorry, Victor, but I would also like to see a bit less of you around my son." Mrs. Katsuki added.

Victor stopped breathing.

"I know you're close, but him being friends with you is what lead to this… this mess— this isn't like Yuri! He doesn't jump off cliffs and cut his own skin and— and the only change that's happened recently…" Mrs. Katsuki tried desperately to justify her thoughts.

Victor's heart stopped beating.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to stay away from my son. For his health. If you truly care for him and his wellbeing, do this. Do this for Yuri." Mrs. Katsuki's eyes begged him to do as she said without a fuss, her tone was imploring. Victor couldn't do this. He couldn't do this to this family. Not this family. His family. He couldn't hurt them. Not anymore. He couldn't hurt Yuri.

She was right.

Mothers always are, Victor thought bitterly. He squared his shoulders and plastered the fakest grin imaginable across his stone face.

"I totally understand, I just— I love you guys. Your whole family. I don't want you to be stressed or in pain if there's something I can do to help you. That's all," he said his fake grin slipping into a sad, tight-lipped smile. "Good-bye, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki, it was lovely to get to know you." he gave a slight bow, and twirled around with false eccentricity.

He speed walked down the hall, hands clenched at his sides. He stalked into Yuri's room and swiped his bag off the floor. He sped through the room grabbing his things: a jacket from the end of the bed, a few books on the window seat, a few spare shirts and pants in the drawers.

"Where's my phone charger?" he asked evenly, not looking up from his search. Yurio eyed Victor with a slightly terrified expression. He opened his mouth but nothing came out and his expression changed to one of deep confusion. Victor swiped a blanket hanging over the end of the bed like a curtain, and peeked under the bed as if searching for monsters. He lurched forwards, shimmying on his stomach across the floor like a snake and snatched up the familiar white chord. He stuffed the object in a pocket of his bag. He dropped the large duffle unceremoniously on the floor, cringing at the loud thud it made. Both conscious inhabitants of the room snapped their heads around, fearing the sleeping friend would wake. Soft snores didn't even hitch, and the body on the bed rolled over, settling into a deeper sleep.

"Um, where are you going?" Yurio asked as Victor began tugging off his hospital scrub pants. He snagged a pair of jeans off the floor, giving them a quick sniff test before hoping up and down, tugging them up by the waistband.

"Are these mine?" he asked as if he hadn't heard Yurio at all. "They seem looser."

"That's because you don't eat anymore. Now tell me where you're going."

"Home." Victor muttered, not looking at Yurio, fumbling with the button.

"Russia!?" Yurio demanded, springing up from his spot on the edge of the bed where Yuri still slept.

" _Shut. Up_." Victor demanded in a harsh whisper. He pulled a sweatshirt from the back of the bed and pulled it over his head. "And no, by the way. Not Russia. I didn't mean "home, home" I meant "home, as in the place I live when I'm here" which is the Katsukis' hot springs." Yurio looked marginally relieved, but still on edge.

"Is everything okay? He asked. Loaded question. _Wrong_ , loaded question. Victor's reaction proved this.

"I don't know, Yurio, is everything okay?" he demanded snappishly voice thunderously soft. Yurio cringed.

"You tell me, Yurio. Yuri was absolutely freaking pissed at me before all this went down and I'm probably the reason he jumped off that cliff to kill himself, and now he doesn't remember me, so I can totally just tell him anything and he'll probably believe me, so I can totally ignore the fact that I betrayed him and destroyed our friendship and ruined every bit of trust he had in me, and I can pretend that we're best friends, and we always have been so he'll just sink into the friendship thing and not even second guess it because, why would he? His parents would tell him that we're friends because it would hurt him less, Mari would tell him we're friends because she really believes it, and you would tell him we're friends because you're my маленький брат but he won't know the truth and that won't be fair. Also, his parents kicked me out of yet another family operation that's strictly and exclusively family blood only, which excludes me and that hurts, man, that hurts like a суки because everyone I've ever freaking loved—" Victor cut himself off, breath coming out in gasps and wheezes.

"I'm sorry— sorry, I'm just… I'm just going to— yeah. I'll be at the hot springs if…"

"If?" Yurio asked dazedly, still processing his friend's… everything.

"I don't know. But, I'll be there." Victor threw his bag over his shoulder and made to walk past Yurio, but was stopped when Yurio reached out a hand to press against his chest, effectively keeping him from running away.

"Victor." Yurio said softly. "This is not your fault. And I know that if Yuri could remember you and everything you've done for him, he'd tell you the same thing. Crap happens to everyone, despite who they are, what they do, who they know— all of that doesn't matter. It's all chance. You were dealt a bad hand, but you can play again." Yurio tried to bring up Victor's spirits. He wasn't good with words. Or emotions. Or people. He was basically awful at human interaction at all levels, but he tried. Victor still left.

Not before saying "I bet my whole lot on that bad hand of cards."

After the door was gently shut with a soft click, the bedsheets rustled as Yuri sat up.

"What happened? He wouldn't just leave like that because my parents asked him to, would he?" he asked uncertainly as Yurio sank back onto the mattress, hunched over his curled-up knees.

"I don't know, kid. I don't know." Yuri wrinkled his nose at the affectionate name.

"You know I'm older than you right, kid?" Yuri asked, not finding the situation as dire as Yurio did. Yurio nudged his shoulder.

"You're a kid. Don't even try to deny it. I'm way more mature than you." He scoffed as Yuri grinned, shaking his head.

"It's just…" Yurio trailed off. He felt Yuri scoot closer, either to hear better or to comfort Yurio.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, putting a warm hand on Yurio's shoulder. Yurio grinned weakly, putting his hand on top of Yurio's and giving a heavy sigh.

"He looks like he did when I first met him five years ago." Yurio paused dramatically as Yuri looked on with worry. "Lost."

Victor stepped out of the hospital for the first time in weeks. Dark clouds gathered ominously in the sky, blocking out the cheery sun and blue skies. Rain dropped in thick, drops that plastered Victor's light hair against his head. Lovely how the weather seemed to match his mood perfectly. He threw a hand in the air, hailing down an old looking cab. He slid into a humid, smelly vehicle and gave the driver directions for a nearby hotel.

Heart beats and breathing are overrated anyways.

 **AN:**

 **Yay, it's all lovey-dovey again! Sort of! Except the end! Because we can't let two beautiful, amazing people have happiness _all_ the time, now can we? Where's the fun in that?!**

 **This chapter was edited at midnight because I forgot it existed. I'm obviously not very responsible. Sorry for the hella wait.**

 **Also, I have no idea how long this might be. I didn't think it would get much past two or three chapters, let alone this far, soooo….**

 **I hope you enjoyed it!**


	10. Blue Like Roses

**AN:**

 **It's**

 **On**

 **Time**

 **!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

Ch10— Blue Like Roses

It had been a day. Just one day. 24 hours. Since Victor had visited. Victor who spent months on end in the hospital with Yuri, even when it seemed like Yuri would never wake up. Victor believed in Yuri. And Yuri threw it all back in his face by not being able to do the simplest thing, like remembering who Victor was. Victor dealt with crap from Yuri's aggressively passive aggressive, overpowering mother who micromanaged harder than a homeschooling mother. Victor dealt with crap from degrading, condescending doctors who thought they were God's gift to the world. Victor dealt with crap from Yuri being too depressed to eat, or too anxious to sleep, or too generally obnoxious and time consuming for Victor to get anything done. The man holed himself up in a hospital for almost a year, for christsake.

He stayed through boredom until someone noticed and brought him music or a book. He stayed through the scratchy sheets and his own dirty clothes until someone realized his discomfort and brought softer blankets and clean clothes. He stayed through the obnoxious monitors and sobbing families and groaning patients until—

Oh wait.

The pain and suffering given by a hospital doesn't ease up for anyone.

And it made Yuri feel like crap.

Everything made Yuri feel like crap.

Yuri _was_ crap.

For putting everyone through so much pain. Making them fear he wouldn't wake up, until giving them hope when he finally did, then taking it away again by not being able to remember them. And the more Yuri thought about it and the longer Victor— someone he still couldn't remember from his past— was away, the worse he felt.

He felt like he was disconnected from everything around him. Reality, people, _himself_. He watched the feet of nurses and patients pass by his room with disinterest. He listened to the ticking of the clock without noting the time it read. He watched people sit by his bed and talk to him, not listening to the words they said. He listened to the beeping of his monitors and the pelting rain drops. But none of it meant anything. They were just images and sounds. Not lives and moments.

He felt like he was lost in the cyclone of emotion and the power of his own mind which wreaked havoc on his mental and emotional stability (whatever little there was to begin with). He was angry that he couldn't remember anything. He was distressed that his inability to remember was hurting others. He was sad— depressed, even— and he had nothing to blame it on.

He should be grateful that his friends stayed with him, even if he couldn't remember who they were, but for some reason their love just made it hurt all the more. He should be grateful he didn't die from whatever "accident" he had been in (Victor said it was a cliff-fall thing that sounded suspiciously like a suicide attempt, his mother said it was a jogging accident but wouldn't go into further detail, and his friends told him he had an accident while jogging without his parent's permission while he was still ill— ill with what, nobody knew). He knew he should be grateful he woke up. But sometimes he wished he hadn't.

When he was asleep, he had a few strange dreams. Some were upsetting, but none were as bad as the bitter sting of reality. Compared to it, his dreaming had been even less than the prick of a needle. His dreams weren't real, and he knew it. He couldn't hurt anyone, or be hurt himself. He couldn't actually lose anything, only experience the feeling of loss, which was easily fixed in a dream world. Everything was perfect, more or less.

And then he woke up.

And it wasn't like he had the right to feel this way. When he fell into a coma, he left people behind. People hurt for him. He had to come back. He had to relieve their pain. But sometimes he wished he hadn't. And that was almost as painful as knowing Victor left.

...

There were less white ceiling tiles in Victor's hotel room than there were in Yuri's hospital room and, to be honest, it was actually kind of irritating.

Also, the air smelled of…. _Lavender_. Victor screwed his face in disgust. It was _Lavender Breeze_ , some fancy spray perfume that housekeeping had used to spray every inch of the room with. It was like a disgusting parody of Yuri's hospital-sunshine-flower smell. It burned Victor's nose and made his eyes water when he walked through a puff of it that a dispenser released at the slightest hint of movement in the room.

The room itself was nice. Well-polished mahogany. Sharp looking upholstery. Elegant crown molding. High ceilings with large light fixtures giving off a generous amount of light. A balcony with white, whispery curtains. Big windows overlooking a garden. In a word, it was everything anyone could ever dream of in a suit.

And, goodness, the bedroom was mostly windows with a huge, swath of canopy around the bed to keep out the natural light the poured in. It was over the top, but just enough that didn't send Victor into a panic about wrinkling the sheets too much, or getting stains on the carpet.

The only two problems were, for one, it's size. It was huge and felt empty without the presence of another. It was lonely and echoed slightly. It was quiet and cold. Pretty. But lonely.

And, secondly, there were flowers _everywhere_.

Tall blue and purple orchids in a white pot greeted him at the door on a small mahogany side table so small it was basically useless. On the coffee table between a long, soft blue couch and a flat-screen TV was a small centerpiece of clean white snowdrops bowed among tiny blue forget-me-nots whose colour faded from sky blue to cobalt. In the bathroom on the back of the toilet and in the window box were artsy looking, ruffly blue carnations. In the kitchen a simple bunch of daisies with a deep, rich cobalt colour sat cheerily. And last but not least, there were deep blue roses in the bedroom. Blue. Roses. Was that a thing? Victor didn't even know that was a thing.

 _Blue roses_ , he scoffed to himself. Roses are red. Or white. Or pink. Or yellow. But never _blue_. Or _purple._ Or, god forbid, _black_. That's _weird_.

Weird. But pretty.

Victor's mind flashed back to a certain dark-haired skating student who was also weird but—.

Christ.

All this blue was driving him crazy. The blue skating jackets, blue hospital chairs, blue flowers— they all kept reminding him of someone. A particularly important someone. A someone he was trying desperately to avoid. And forget.

Victor knew that just "saying away," as Mrs. Katsuki had so lovingly requested of him, was not going to happen on its own. Victor was going to have to do one of two things. Forget Yuri, or make Yuri hate him. if he convinced himself that Yuri was a figment of the past, just a one time thing, a bit of fun for a few years, then it would be easier to move on. If he made Yuri angry, somehow, and managed to get Yuri to hate him or at least _say_ that he hated Victor, then it would be slightly easier to move on. It would hurt all to pieces that Yuri hated him, but at least he would know that there was no way to go back. If there was even a sliver of possibility for Victor to go back, he knew he would take that chance. He had to make sure there was either no connection, or no chance of returning.

He decided to forget. For now. In a room of the colour the person he's trying to forget looks best in. And in a bedroom with the flower symbolizing something that he and the person he was trying to forget would never have together.

Actually, Victor knew what red roses meant (everyone knows what red roses mean) but he wasn't too sure about blue, seeing as blue roses are against the laws of nature. Maybe they didn't mean love. Maybe they meant hatred. Or disgust. Or mild dislike. He'd rather they meant that than lov—

Victor flinched as the word crossed his mind. He might as well look it up, he didn't have anything better to do. Mildly curious, Victor flopped on the fluffy couch and pulled out his phone. He grimaced at his lock screen picture. The bright grin and the flash of a two-fingered peace sign of his friend who was currently laying in a hospital bed was looking up at Victor. He'd have to change that soon. He'd probably just change it back to a picture of Makkachin cocking his head to the side.

He grimaced at the background image of himself burying his face into the hair of his peacefully sleeping student. That would have to change as well. He'd probably switch it back to that back to the picture of him, Yurio and Coach from a few years back. Иисуса. Yuri was _everywhere_.

Grumbling to himself moodily, Victor began searching for answers of what blue roses mean. He scanned through a few "what colour rose are you?" sites, rolling his eyes at the hippie stupidity of his own species and clicked on a promising site.

"'Blue roses do not occur in nature'— you don't say." Victor snarked as he read the article he found out loud. "'They lack the pigmentation necessary to create the colour blue' blue blah blah blah…. 'Mystery'. Okay, that's not so bad. 'Tantalizing?' Jeezus."

"'Complex personality'… yeah, that actually fits. Let's see.. 'it symbolizes the impossible or unattainable'." Victor bit his lip, hating irony. "God. 'Blue roses themselves are extraordinary and seem to say to the receiver of such roses that they are as well extraordinary or special'."

"'The first flush of love'?!" Victor practically squealed, his voice cracking. "What does that even mean?"

"'Sense of appreciation for something that cannot be grasped at full measure'." Victor wanted to bang his head against the wall. "Did they know I was coming? Like, 'oh let's put a bunch of blue roses in Victor's room to remind of him of exactly what he's trying to forget,' what a joke… 'New opportunities'… 'enchantment'… 'charm'… what? Ick, let's leave that site."

"Oh, this is an actual flower shop site, they ought to know what they're talking about. Let's see…. Red, pink, white, yellow, peach— what is peach? Is that an actual rose colour? Really? Oh, here we go. Blue roses. 'They mean "I can't have you but I can't stop thinking about you"'." Victor chucked his phone across the room with an animalistic howl.

...

Day 5:

This was pathetic. Yuri was counting. Every day. He counted all the hours, too (135 hours, including the hours left in the day that Victor left). Everything felt weird. Like there was a gap. Something was missing.

His parents were happy. His mother came more often, almost every day now, and she smiled more. His father snuck him coffee behind the nurses' backs and talked about what he and Yuri could do together when he was better. They could go fishing and things that normal father-and-son pairs did together, and his dad was even willing to learn how to skate. Mari was still a little upset that Yuri had let his mother kick Victor clear out of the picture, but she didn't seem much different other than that. And Yurio—

Yurio took everything so hard, these days.

When Victor left he sat in Victor's window seat, hugging himself. He stared out the window and watched the passersby for hours, and continued to watch while he ate whenever someone (namely Yuri) forced him to He didn't respond when someone called his name, or tried to talk to him, but he seemed to listen when he felt like the conversation was important.

It was like how Mari described Victor when Yuri was still in his coma. Merely existing. Breathing and blinking. Eating when prompted, giving vague social cues, like nodding, when nudged hard enough. Yuri practically fed him and had to convince him to change his clothes every day.

A nurse or Mari would bring an extra meal along with Yuri's and they would set them both on the tray that sat on Yuri's bed. Yuri would force his aching muscles and bones to sit up, a soft pillow cushioning his sore back from the hard plastic of the bed. He could call Yurio over with a soft, coaxing sort of voice. Yurio would visibly heave himself off the window seat and amble awkwardly over to the chair beside Yuri's bed. He would stand hoveringly by Yuri, until Yuri reached out to pat him on the shoulder and push him into the chair. And then Yuri would hand feed Yurio until he made a grumpy sort of groan and leaned back into the chair. Then Yuri would turn back to feeding himself and Yurio would slump in the chair until Yuri was finished. Someone would come to collect the trays, Yurio would go back to this window seat and Yuri would go back to pretending he wasn't watching/worrying about Yurio while fake reading the most recent manga, or catching up on his various social media sites.

And that was the climax of their days. It was depressing. And Yuri was bored to pieces without Victor. Mari was great and all, but she was his sister. She was kind of liable to be there. It was her job. She did great at her job, and she obviously loved her job, but it was a job nonetheless. It was expected of her. Yuri was grateful, but her help was expected.

Victor wasn't a sibling. He wasn't a parent or even a twice removed cousin. He was a stranger who had come into Yuri's life by a stroke of beautiful, beautiful (and apparently drunk) luck at a party for the best skaters in the world. Victor had no responsibility for Yuri. He could turn around, walk away or leave and no one would raise an eyebrow. He was a coach, a famous skater— he had other responsibilities. He could claim to have a job offer in New York, or a modeling gig lined up in Hong Kong. He could leave Yuri's life as quickly as he came— but he didn't. Not once did Victor turn his back on Yuri—

According to everyone else, anyways. Yuri still fought to remember anything about Victor, Yurio or any of the other skaters from his life before the accident. Which was another valid reason for Victor to leave—

Yuri must have made a distressed sound, because Yurio was suddenly at his side, leaning his side against Yuri's shoulder. Yurio looked up to see Yurio looking at him gravely. A little freaked out, Yuri reached up to pat Yurio's arm awkwardly.

"I'm okay, Yurio…" he muttered. Yurio's blank face broke for the first time in days when he glared at Yuri knowingly.

"Okay, so I'm a bit upset. That's normal isn' it?" Yurio shrugged and nodded.

"You've felt this way too before, righ'? Kinda…. Ditched?" Yurio nodded seriously.

"I mean, it's not that I'm obsessed or anythin'. I'm just a bit… lost?" Yurio nodded again.

"It's like, I may not remember him… but he's been there, ya know? He's always there. And now he's not." Yurio nodded.

"When are you going to start talking ta' me again?" Yuri asked honestly. "I might not remember you, but I miss your voice. And Victor's." Yurio looked pained. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, looking down at his hands, which were twisting together.

"Yurio. Please." Yuri begged. "Help me out, here. I can't do this alone— an' let's face it: neither can you!" Yuri pointed out harshly. Yurio glared daggers at Yuri, who sneered back.

"Didn't take you for a coward, Plisetsky." Yuri grumbled, crossing his arms irritably, trying to look as intimidating as he could while lying in bed, looking paler than a ghost. Yurio made an animalistic growling sound and his face turned a reddish tint.

"You're worse off than I am, aren't ya?" Yuri guessed, voice and demeanor softening a little. Yurio bit his lip, and rolled his eyes. They stayed silent for a moment.

"Yurio, seriously, talk ta' me." Yuri was back to pleading. "Please. I'm begging ya', here." Yuri implored, looking straight into Yurio's eyes. Dark chocolate puppy-dog eyes met cool icy green blades. Cool icy green blades that, upon closer examination, looked like shattered glass. Yuri reached out and grabbed Yurio's arm, pulling his friend closer.

"Yurio. I can't help unless you tell me wha's wrong." Yurio looked up at him through a curtain of pale blonde hair. Yuri brushed the long strands out of the way, holding them to the side by cupping his friend's face, which also kept said friend from looking away. Yurio flushed under the scrutiny and attempted to wiggle from Yuri's grasp, but Yuri was having none of it.

"Yurio." Something in Yuri's tone must have caught Yurio's attention because the boy's eyes widened and his hand went to cover Yuri's on his face. Yurio gnawed his lip, struggling to either muster the right words, or the courage to speak. Yuri waited patiently, absently fiddling with the soft fluffy hair.

"Sorry." Yurio muttered flatly, his voice a bit scratchy from disuse.

"Sorry, 'bout what? You can tell me, I promise I won't be upset." Yurio's eyes were shining. Misting.

"I just… Everything. Everything keeps happening and… and nothing is…. Nothing's okay and I just—"

"Hey, hey it's okay! Just breath, come here, sit with me." Yuri ordered, gently tugging Yurio until he sat on the edge of the bed. Yuri shuffled so he was sitting upright without the use of a pillow and began scrambling around to swing his legs over the edge of the bed like Yurio.

"Don't." Yurio said, his vise like grip holding Yuri by the arm and pushed him back sharply. Yuri fell back against the pillows and blinked up at Yurio in surprise.

"Lay back. It hurts you to sit up." Yuri grinned softly in response, a warm tingle shooting through his heart. He reached out a hand and Yurio stared at it with a clueless expression. He tentatively reached out and Yuri grasped his hand, jerking him back down against the pillow so they were lying beside each other.

"What do you mean "everything keep's happening"?" Yurio didn't answer and just plucked at the scratchy blanket. Yuri noticed this and grasped Yurio's hand in his own, using his own spare hand to pull the blanket over Yurio, who blushed again.

"Just… You were… hurt and stuff— you did it to yourself…. Which is worse than someone doing it to you." Yurio sighed heavily. "Then the accident… and a coma… and now you can't remember me—" Yurio chomped down on his lip hard until Yuri poked his cheek.

"Stop doing that. You'll split your lip and start bleeding over my nice clean blankets." Yurio rolled his eyes.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"You know I'm trying ta' 'member, right?" Yurio nodded. "It's probably even worse for you, now that Victor is..."

"MIA." Yurio supplied.

"MIA." Yuri agreed. Yurio lay his head on Yuri's shoulder tentatively. Yuri stiffened for a second, eyes wide with shock. When Yurio made no move to pull away, Yuri pushed an arm under Yurio's shoulders and pulled him closer. Yurio rolled onto his side and gave a soft sigh of contentment, his eyes fluttering closed as his head nudged to rest under Yuri's chin.

Maybe "nothing's okay" was a bit of an overstatement.

...

Victor's phone was in timeout. It was under the huge four poster bed, right where it had slid when Victor threw it during his temper tantrum (is third temper tantrum. It was a long day).

He.

Was.

So.

 _Bored_.

And when he was bored, he liked to talk. To literally anybody. His coach, his friends, the Katsuki family, the bus driver, a waitress— literally anything alive he would talk to. Sometimes he even talked to the wall, despite it not meeting the criteria of being alive. He was desperate to just _talk_.

At first, the people he blabbed to would listen. After all, he's Victor Nikiforov, who wouldn't listen? But after a while, his friends and family would eventually get bored. They'd make up an excuse, and suddenly have a dentist appointment they almost forgot about, or a who list of chores that has to get done at home even though Victor was certain that he saw a whole staff of maids and butlers and chefs the last time he visited….

If they were fans— Victor gave up trying to talk to his fans years ago. They were so loud and energetic, like they were all hopped up on some sort of caffeine-Adderall-adrenaline juice. They'd come up in groups, giggling and whispering to each other and eventually, one girl (always the shyest one) would be pushed until she stumbled up to Victor where she would softly ask for a signature and a picture. She would snap a picture, get a shirt signed and start meandering (fangirl-scream-jumping) away with her friends.

They didn't ask how Victor was doing that day.

They didn't try to strike up a conversation at all, actually.

They didn't even say hello.

And, for some reason, the strong, never-failing, God-of-a-man Victor Nikiforov was hurt. And lonely. And quite lost, to be honest. He just wanted to talk to somebody. Walls didn't make conversation well. They didn't say hello, or ask him how he was, either. They weren't warm or soft, they didn't have personality or expression. They were walls. All walls are supposed to do is be tall and strong for somebody else. Their words and emotions didn't matter.

"I'm a wall." Victor whispered to himself, realization slowly dawning. He sat upright from his position of lying with his top half hanging off the arm of the couch. His silvery tresses sweeping the ground as he moved upright.

"I'm a wall?" He said, almost asking the very walls he compared himself to. Realization came all too quickly and hit him between the eyes with a hammer.

"I'm a wall!" he groaned, face crumpling as he squealed and whined indignantly, falling back so he lay on the couch. He hugged a soft, heather grey pillow to his face and screamed into it.

Suddenly a cheerful tune ripped through the room.

"Not! Now!" he growled at the stupid piece of plastic that still lay under the bed, waiting for its owner to come back.

The jingle continued on light-heartedly.

"No, phone! No!"

"His phone continued to sing and buzz and light up, seeming almost glad to notify him of a message. Victor let out a growling screech that sounded very unhuman. He lurched upright and leapt over the end of the couch, storming into the bedroom. He slid across the room in socked feet, making a point to stomp the last few steps over the bed, as if to intimidate his phone. He crouched down and jerked the blankets to the side so he could see under the bed.

"What?" he hissed at his phone. He snatched the object from under the bed and plopped comfortably onto the floor, leaning against the bed. A glance at the caller ID made him catch his breath. He immediately hit the green accept-call button.

"Yurio." He breathed, voice filled with wonder.

...

Yurio gripped his phone tightly. He was outside the hospital, looking around as if expecting to be attacked, his hood up so his phone was completely concealed.

"Look, I don't have much time." He stated sharply.

" _Yurio_." Why did Victor have to sound so awed that Yurio was calling? Jeez, it made the whole Mrs. Katsuki-kicking-Victor-out-of-a-public-building thing even worse. " _What's wrong? Are you okay— is Yuri okay? Did something happen? You wouldn't call if nothing happened, tell me what happened— lay it on me, Yurio, what happened? I'm dying here—"_

"Yeah, well, we aren't doing to well on our side either." Yurio bit out. He sighed heavily, a hand going up to rub his aching forehead. He was tired of being the go-between.

He was the messenger between Yuri and his parents, who were not on speaking terms with each other. He was the messenger between Yuri and Victor, because Yuri's parents didn't allow him to use a phone (probably to cut down on the chances that Yuri would call Victor and the two would run away together or something). He was the messenger between the doctors and Victor, though nothing had happened yet so that job is technically nonexistent at this point—

Sometimes Yurio wished he could go live in the United States or Canada or even China. Anywhere away from these crazy people he called family. He was willing to go to Mexico and he was told by a small child that he would be shot if he ever went to Mexico.* That would be better than this awful prison of crazy people!

"Look nothing super bad is happening… well…"

 _"Yuri, breath!" Yurio demanded, holding his friend tightly in his arms as he would a baby or a small child._

 _"Try— ing—" Yuri choked out. His breaths were too quick. They were gasps, shallow and jerky. "Can't—"_

 _"Don't talk. Just… breath, man, please. Breathe!" Yurio begged, holding Yuri tighter. Yuri gripped the chest of Yurio's soft, long-sleeved t-shirt with a white knuckled grasp, his other hand clenching around Yurio's, which was wrapped around Yuri's twitching legs. Yuri's whole body twitched and thrashed, out of the boy's own control. In order to keep Yuri from hurting himself during his seizure-like fit, Yurio quickly thought the grab his friend and use bodily force to hold him down._

 _Though it really looked like he was holding Yuri together, more than anything._

 _"Yu—" Yuri tried to say, unable to use his heavy cotton tongue._

 _"Sh, I know. It's okay."_

 _"Want— Vic—"_

 _"I know, I know. Me too, kid. Me too." Wetness trickled down Yurio's face, splattering onto Yuri's. Yuri momentarily forgot his distress. Looking amazed, he reached out the tremoring hand that had been gripping Yurio's and lightly patted Yurio's face._

 _"Don't cry for me. I'll be okay." Yuri grinned, but only half of his face cooperated._

 _Nurses filed in, shouting orders left and right. The klaxons of the monitors surrounding Yuri were suddenly brought back into the normal paced, soft rhythms, a far cry from the chaotic wailing it had been._

 _Yurio, who had been pushed to the back by bustling nurses eager to help a patient in need, elbowed his way to the front to find Yuri lying on the bed, deeply asleep._

 _"What did you do to him?" Yurio demanded, grasping one of Yuri's lifeless, cold hands in his own, attempting to use his breath to warm the frigid hands._

 _"We gave him a mild sedative to help with the anxiety. It wasn't supposed to knock him out, just make him feel a bit calmer, and maybe a bit drowsy." The nurse who responded looked at her coworkers for confirmation._

 _"She's right." A red-haired nurse spoke up, a gentle smile on her freckled face. "Your friend is just fine. The sedative will keep him asleep for maybe an hour, don't worry. If he doesn't wake in an hour, come and see us." And just as quickly as they came, the nurses swept out of the room, squeaks of shoes and scuffling of paper fading off as the door shut behind them._

 _"Yuri." Yurio said, tapping his friend's cheek with a finger. "Yuri, please wake up." Yuri didn't even groan, which he always did when Yurio attempted to wake him up in the morning._

 _"Come on, Yuri. Where's that mumbling and complaining about it being to early? Wake up, please. Please, wake up!" Yurio was becoming increasingly desperate. He placed his hands on Yuri's shoulders and shook the boy, but Yuri's head lolled and his body shook limply in Yurio's grasp. Yurio lay Yuri back down, a horrified expression on his face,_

 _This was just like last time. Back when Yuri couldn't wake up and no one knew why. Back when it wasn't clear if Yuri was going to wake up. Back when Yuri could've lost his personality, or his speech or mobility. Yurio couldn't wake Yuri up. Yuri won't wake up._

 _Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, Oh God, ohGodohGod—_

 _Yurio had to tell Victor. Yes. Victor knew how to fix everything. Victor could fix this._

 _Yurio fumbled in his pocket for a moment before he pulled out a cell phone. He began punching in the numbers as he walked out of the room. he made his way outside, attempting to hide form the Mr. and the Mrs., neither of which were thrilled with Victor at the moment. Yurio couldn't risk them finding out that he was giving Victor information. If they found out, they might ban Yurio from the hospital, too._

 _Yurio tugged his hood up and hunched his shoulders, attempting to hide his face from view. His blonde bangs slid down to hide him even further. Yurio brought the phone discreetly to his ear as he jogged around the side of the hospital._

"Look, he had some sort of…. I don't know, a panic attack? Have you seen one of those— does he… does he get those, is that normal?" Yurio asked uncertainly. A choking sound from the other end of the phone gave Yurio all he needed to know.

"You knew he got those _and you didn't think to tell me_?" Yurio demanded, temper set to start boiling.

"Yurio, I'm sorry. Brother, I am so sorry." Victor sounded earnestly regretful.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Yurio demanded, too exhausted to rip his brother a new one. Victor sighed into the phone and an almost soothing crackling sound came through to Yurio, who wished for the millionth time that Victor was at his side.

"I'm sorry. I thought those were done. I thought you knew. I thought the doctors had it in their medical charts. I didn't know it was a secret." Victor answered honestly, feeling embarrassed and stupid.

"Oh my— _Victor_." Yurio whined.

"I know, I know. I didn't realize… I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's okay, it's just… I was so…" Yurio broke off. "It sucked." He said darkly. "It really…. I had no idea what to do. And then they all came running in and he just passed out—"

"What?!" Victor shouted through the phone.

"Ow, jeez, Victor! Not so loud!" Yurio complained, holding the phone away from his ear. He could just see Victor's face turning red with anger and worry, steam blowing out of his ears as well.

"What do you mean "passed out," what happened?" Victor demanded.

"They gave him a sedative or whatever. It was supposed to just calm him down but it put him right out. They said to give him an hour or so and he'll wake up." Victor sighed in response.

"Okay, okay. That's…. that's fine. Thanks for telling me."

"No problem. I'd want you to do the same if we were reversed." It was silent for a minute before Yurio realized that Victor was isolated. Scared. Alone. Left out. The poor guy probably wanted to talk. Victor liked to talk when he was nervous, and Yurio liked to hear voices of the people he cared about, so it was a win-win all around.

"Sooo…." Yurio started awkwardly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you wanna talk?" that little question set off an avalanche of babbling.

"Dear God, yes, have I told you about how many freaking blue flowers are in this godforsaken hotel room? Orchids, daisies, carnations— there's bloody roses—blue. Roses— and do you know what blue roses stand for? Oh. My God. Let me read it to you. Hold on I just have to find it, it's so stupid it hurts…"

 **AN:**

 ***I was actually told by a 12-year-old kid that I would be shot if I ever went to Mexico. I have no idea why this kid said it, but he had just moved that year from Mexico, so I figured he must know his stuff. I don't know why, but I just felt like putting that in there. I'm not trying to say Mexico is an awful place, or that no one should go because they might get shot. This is literally the words from a 12-year-old "You don't want to go to Mexico. You'll get shot." Grain of salt, people, this kid thought he was in the mafia.**

 **As always, requests, reviews (good or bad!) and suggestions are welcome!**

 **This chapter might seem a little all over the place, my apologies. Life has been slapping me with a two-by-four with my friend dying and my conversation foreign language class giving me ulcers of stress and my friends being jerk-wads— I could go on, but you're here for the story, not to contribute to a pity party!**

 **Also, I had a ton of fun with angry Victor. Like, too much fun. I think I went overboard. NO REGERTS.**


	11. Mother Knows Best

**AN:**

 **I can't do anything on time, I swear to God.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **I took liberties, there's an OC and a bit of original story warping. Hope you don't mind.**

 **Also, I have way too much fun torturing our lovely babies. I'm not sorry.**

CH11— Mother Knows Best

Things were okay. No. Things were _fine_. They were _fine_. Everything was _fine_. The Katsuki's were _fine_. Yurio was _fine_. Yuri was

 _Hella_

 _Fine_

Everything was fine.

All of it.

All of the things.

Yuri sometimes wonders if he's trying too hard to convince himself that everything's fine.

Anyways.

It had been two months of Victor staying away from the hospital (two _fine_ months. _Good_ months). That was two months of Yuri having no idea where Victor was. Two months.

Yuri was fine.

By now, Yuri was sporting the tight-lipped, no teeth, flat-eyed, corpse-of-long-dead-joy smiles that were so false, they rebounded back to looking believable. Yuri wondered if people just stopped caring. Maybe everyone was so exhausted and stressed out that they didn't even notice. Yuri couldn't bring himself to care. He was sick of the hospital, sick of the medication, sick of the bustling nurses and doctors who thought they knew everything—

Yuri just wanted to go home.

The only problem was that he didn't know where home was.

Was it with his overbearing, suffocating, guilt-tripping, hovering, condescending, obsessive, lunatic, stalkerish parents?

Was it with his chill, laid-back, perfect, boyish, disconnected, distracted, possibly high and/or gender-fluid, somewhat supportive sister?

Was it with his supposed, mysterious, confusing, somewhat creepy, also stalkerish, could be lying, supposedly close skating friends?

Yuri's memories were coming back slowly. Like a trickling stream when the winter melts into spring. Slow, but steady. Long-awaited, but hopeful. He remembered things in flashes, in images like pictures. Snapshots.

Him and a silver haired man that _had_ to be Victor sitting at the breakfast table, doing a horrible job at lying to Yuri's sometimes _too_ trusting mother.

Him and a silver haired man that _had_ to be Victor skating until their feet bled and their muscles ached.

Him and a silver haired man that _had_ to be Victor lying in bed together, half-asleep after an exhausting few days.

If Yuri's memories were correct in both the events that took place and the emotions he tied to these events, then Yuri's home was wherever a certain silver haired man was. However, said silver haired man was not at the hospital. This may explain Yuri's itch to get out of the hospital. He didn't know where he wanted to go. Just that he wanted to go. To get away.

He felt like a trapped bird.

A little swallow or blue bird flapping its tiny wings, desperate to break free from whatever prison it was in, only to find its wings too fragile to bust the steel bars. Only to find its delicate bones breaking with impact against the sturdy cage that didn't even shudder under the gentle wings that pounded with all the force they could.

What's worse is that Yuri wouldn't even name his prison.

Maybe the hospital? But Yuri understood that he wouldn't be in the hospital forever, and also that he was only there to get better.

Maybe his own feelings? He was confused about Victor and Yurio, who he still couldn't remember. He was fed up with people either asking if he was okay all the time and not paying attention to hear the falseness in his answer, or when people seemed to ignore him and see right through him, which his parents did more and more each day. He was upset and irritated almost 80% of the time for no reason at all, which only irritated him further…

Could it be his condition? The fact that he couldn't do everything on his own yet? The fact that his speech still slurred slightly, despite his best efforts to control his own tongue? The fact that he still couldn't remember the people who seemed to really care about him?

It bothered Yuri that he couldn't figure out exactly what was wrong with him. He looked around and would find kids whose parents were dying of cancer. He saw kids getting shots every day for life-threatening allergies and conditions. He saw people diagnosed with diseases and illnesses he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. He heard stories of children dying, babies flat-lining and distraught parents sobbing over their child's lifeless body. And yet all these families managed to smile through the pain. They held each other's hands and skipped through the rain. They sang to overpower the loud beep of a failing heart. They danced in the shadows just as they would in the sun.

All these people facing something so much worse than what Yuri was facing, and yet here Yuri sat. Complaining about a few pills and IVs while grumpily crossing his arms and huffing at the nurses who generously chased down his favourite jello flavours— even when it was green Jello day— ever since they realized Victor wasn't coming back. Speaking of jello—

"Morning _Yu_ ri~!" a nurse with a pixie cut and eyes as dark as the night sky skipped into his room. Yuri looked up with a blank, slightly miserable expression, which didn't affect the nurse at all. She was holding something behind her back and was bouncing on the balls of her feet with girlish enthusiasm. Yuri raised an eyebrow, a silent question.

"Iiiiit's….." the nurse brought whatever was in her hand around to the front, displaying it like a gameshow girl on TV would display a fancy prize like a car. "Red Jello!" she crowed with a loud, bright voice.

"I got your favourite—" she suddenly leaned close and whispered loudly. "I snuck it from the back, so don't tell anyone!" she said this almost every day she brought contraband red Jello on green Jello day. Yuri couldn't help but crack a smirk at his jubilant friend.

"I got him to smile!" the nurse shouted.

"Okay, Momo, calm down." Yuri said tiredly. Two blonde nurses poked their heads into the room, while another shouted a meaningful "congratulations" from down the hall. "Seriously, give me my Jello." He wagged an arm in her direction with grabby hands. Momo grinned triumphantly, handing him his treat and a spoon she pulled from the pocket of her sky-blue scrubs.

"I got him to eat without force or a trickery— beat that, bi—"

"Momo!" the blonde nurse named Aki exclaimed shrilly, her lips puckering with a disproval. Momo stuck her tongue out at Aki and the other nurse before sweeping out of the room, winking to Yuri who dug into his Jello, suddenly starving.

The two nurses stood in the doorway, watching him until he finished. Normally, it would have freaked him out that he was being watched— especially while he ate, but there was something about Momo's cheery exterior that made Yuri wasn't to do something to make her happy. Even if it was something as simple as eating the Jello she brought him.

Yuri handed the empty Jello container to Aki, who wasn't exactly grinning, but she wasn't puckering her lips bitterly like she usually did, so that had to be something. The other nurse just toyed with her ringlets in a bored manner. Yuri didn't like that nurse. It was strange for Yuri to not like a nurse. He liked all his nurses, it was the doctors he had beef with, but that nurse with the ringlets just got under Yuri's skin.

Once the empty cup had been received as proof of Yuri having eaten something for the first time in two days, the nurses retreated, leaving his door wide open to welcome unexpected visitors. Loneliness, Yuri was discovering quickly, was worse than obnoxious people. He'd rather have to deal with someone annoying than be alone, stuck in bed with nothing but a TV, his phone and a few books at his side for company.

Oh, Yuri, but where are your parents?

Why, thank you for asking, empty water bottle under the long-vacated chair by the bed.

Yuri's parents were more interested in fighting— er— arguing? No, _discussing,_ of course, discussing. They were always _discussing_. Loudly. With a lot of hand motions. and in very public places, which embarrassed Yuri to no end.

They discussed things like, what were they going to do when Yuri was released home? Mrs. Katsuki's work was very involved, and she often couldn't leave it. She cleaned up after and tended to fifty some guests on her own without any staff help! There could be no slacking! (anyone else disturbed that Mrs. Katsuki considered helping her own son who almost died falling from a cliff to be "slacking" from her "real" job, which was not being a mother, apparently)

But, hey, Mr. Katsuki isn't exactly lazy, if that was what Mrs. Katsuki was implying. He has work too.

Of course, that's not what Mrs. Katsuki was implying, Mr. Katsuki is just so defensive— Wait, Mr. Katsuki is defensive?

What about Mrs. Katsuki, she's always breathing down Mr. Katsuki's neck, just waiting for him to say something wrong so she can blow it out of proportion—

 _Discussing_.

 _Sure_.

Yuri called BS on _discussing_ ages ago, but no one was able to celebrate a correctly called BS when his parents' discussions turned out to be much louder and scarier than any discussion he'd ever seen.

Oh, but why is no one there? Wherever has Yurio gone?

Why, thank you for asking, Jello spoon that Yuri forgot to have Aki throw away.

Yurio has been MIA since Yuri's little… episode. Yurio had run out of Yuri's hospital room, nurses reported having seen Yurio outside on the phone, talking very quickly with a choked voice. He was probably crying, and Yuri knew of only one person Yurio would ever cry to. And that was only if there was no other option but to cry. So, the situation must have been dire.

Yuri wondered if Victor had solved Yurio's problem on the phone. The fact that Yurio still hadn't shown up at the hospital either meant that Victor couldn't solve it, which would mean the two would have to spend time together to solve it, or it could mean that the problem was solved and Yurio felt free and able to leave the hospital now.

Maybe "nothing's okay" _wasn't_ an overstatement.

* * *

So…. Yurio had moved in. With Victor. In Victor's nice bachelor hotel room. For reasons that Victor didn't quite understand. To his knowledge, Yuri and Yurio had been getting along just fine before Victor left. He secretly wondered if the reason his two Yuri's weren't talking was because of himself. Ever since Yurio had called about Yuri's …. Seizure(?) thing, Yurio had called, and Victor was grateful for the information, but at the same time… at the same time he didn't want to know.

Because he worried.

No, "worry" is something you do when you think you lost your headphones and that you'll have to face the general public to get another set. "Worry" is when you kind of think you might have tetanus because you cut your leg while running outdoors and your leg is now greenish.

Victor was _panicking._ For the longest time, he couldn't eat or sleep. It was like adrenaline was coursing through his veins, but at the same time he was exhausted. Everything he did made him think of Yuri, which would make him think of Yuri's condition and how the poor kid had a seizure. Victor wondered if he knew what anxiety was now.

And this went on _for_ _ages_.

Even after Yurio and Victor began calling each other every day, Victor would still panic about what might be happening every second that he and Yurio weren't talking. It was torture, but Victor needed it. He _needed_ to know if Yuri was okay. And that was probably the reason Yurio moved in.

Yurio was also not doing well, even being by Yuri's side. Both Yurio and Victor were spiraling into something dark and scary and neither of them knew what to do about it. So Yurio showed up one day with a grey suitcase and a black backpack with kitten ears attached to the top (he blushed and said something about a really dedicated fan sending it and Yuri forcing him to use it every day he visited the hospital). And then Yurio announced that he was moving in and basically said that if Victor had a problem with it, then he could shove it— er— somewhere dark. And that was the end of that.

Living with Yurio was…. Interesting. Most of the time the moody teenager lay in bed (Victor's bed, of course. Couldn't just use the guestroom, now could he?) and scrolled through social media feeds all day. Victor had attempted to get him up and go shopping, or skating, or literally anything but lying around all day— bad idea. There was much throwing of shoes, random articles of clothing and whatever else was at hand (including a vase, of all things, which the two boys hid from housekeeping by hiding the fragmented pieces in the socks of Victor's sock drawer. Despite Yurio's attitude, Victor could tell that Yuri was slowly wasting away with boredom and probably loneliness, as well. Yurio was so close to Yuri for the longest time, that the sudden disconnection probably shocked the poor kid a bit. Now it seemed like Yurio was just… _there_.

Existing.

Barely.

Victor never saw Yurio eat. When Victor went to sleep, Yurio was lying next to him playing on his phone and when Victor woke up, Yurio was still on his phone. Victor told himself that Yurio was just "late to bed, early to rise," but he knew he needed to stop kidding himself. Something was wrong.

Now Yurio was lying on his back, with his head dangling off the foot of Victor's bed. He held his phone above his face and stared at the screen with expressionless eyes. Victor kneeled down and tilted his head upside down to see the phone screen. It was set to a messaging app, open to a conversation in which the second party had just responded. It looked like Yurio was either re-reading it over and over again, or he was just staring blankly while thinking very hard about something.

Righting himself, Victor stepped over the threshold into his bedroom and eyed his friend with concern. The foot of the bed was facing the doorway, so Victor could easily see Yurio without stepping in the room, which would make noise and snap Yurio back to attention. Victor wondered if Yurio was always this listless, and would only pretend not to be whenever he heard Victor coming near.

"Yurio." Victor sang lightly, trying not to scare him. Yurio didn't respond. "Yurio?" he asked again. He waited a few minutes, but still got no response. Victor's eyebrow quirked in concern and he hedged into the room.

"Yurio, I know you can hear me…" Victor said uncertainly. He was standing directly behind of Yurio at this point. There was no way Yurio couldn't hear Victor, or keep a straight face this long if he was just ignoring Victor. Victor reached out a hand.

"Yurio, are you igno—" The moment Victor laid his hand on Yurio's shoulder, Yurio jerked out of his grip, rolled too far to the side, and plummeted off the side of the bed with a high yelp.

"Ow, God!" Yurio moaned, sitting up and rubbing his back. "What'd I ever do to you, huh?" Yurio demanded. Victor scuttled around the bed and reached out a hand to help Yurio up.

"Sorry, sorry. I thought you were ignoring me, are you okay?" Victor asked. Now standing, Yurio glanced down, suddenly seeming to find the floor to be an object of great interest. "Yurio?" Victor prompted. Yurio looked up through his eyelashes at Victor, not raising his head.

"You're not going to like it." Yurio muttered.

"Yurio…. Are you...?" with as much as Victor had been around it, you'd think he would be able to say the no-no word by now, but he still trailed off, or stuttered through it at best.

"What…? Oh!" Yurio exclaimed, suddenly realizing what Victor meant. "No! No, no I'm not… doing that." Yurio waved his hands around as if trying to erase the implication. Victor sagged against the wall for a moment, visibly relieved.

"Good, that's good." He sighed. "Um, so what was it that happened, then?" Victor asked.

"Victor…" Yurio trailed off. He was about to say something else but there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Ah, that'll room service, I bet." Victor muttered, jogging lightly out of the room.

"Um, Victor?" Yurio snagged the sleeve of Victor's sweatshirt, trotting after his friend.

"Hold that thought, I'll just ask them to come back later."

Actually, Victor—"

"No, Yurio. Don't say that it can wait, and that I should let room service clean up, that you can wait. Because we both know that whatever this is, it can't wait. And we both know that if we wait, we'll both lose the courage to talk about it, so let's do it now." By now Victor was standing in front of the door, hand out to twist the doorknob. Yurio ducked under Victor's arm and stood in front of the door, arms outstretched as if he was shielding the door from Victor.

"Yurio?"

"Ah…." Yurio's mind was racing and he quickly came up with an excuse. "I'll do it!" he exclaimed, possibly a bit too enthusiastically. Victor cocked his head with confusion.

"Um, that's okay, I can do it." Victor said, throwing an arm around Yurio's shoulders to drag him out of the way. The knock was louder and more insistent, but was also followed by muttering voices. Victor tugged the door open, going against the very verbal will of Yurio.

A storm of feelings swarmed at him like an army. Guilt. Love. Pain. Joy. Worry. Relief. Everything conflicted and he felt it all at once, as if he were in the middle of a tornado. And who was causing this tornado? Standing in his doorway was a boy with dark, shining hair and innocent, sparkling eyes.

"Yuri…" Victor breathed. "Yuri, you… Yuri…" that name was like freaking sunshine and Victor was a frozen tundra. God, sunshine is so warm and perfect, why did he ever give it up?

"Oh, Victor— I'm so glad you're okay!" Yuri's eyes were shining, effectively stabbing Victor with guilt.

"Just remember, I tried to tell you." Yurio's voice floated from somewhere off in the hotel room. It was like he was handing the blame off to someone else. 'You brought this on yourself,' his tone seemed to say. But before Victor could ask him what he meant, Yurio backed out of the hallway where he stood behind Victor, and disappeared back into the bedroom.

"Yurio—" Yuri tried to call his friend back. "Was that Yurio?" Yuri demanded, having only heard and not seen who he thought could be Yurio's. Yuri stood on his tip-toes and tried to peer over Victor's shoulder. Victor nodded slowly, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Yuri looked betrayed for a moment, but closed off his expression and nodded.

"I'm glad he's okay." Yuri said neutrally. That hurt. Victor knew that Yurio didn't tell Yuri where he had gone, but he didn't know that Yuri had been worried about both Victor and Yurio, plus handled the stress of his family arguing all the time, plus the pain of his slow recovery.

"Wait, when did you get out of the hospital? Yurio said you've still got a few weeks left." Victor turned back to Yuri with a confused expression, seeking answers. That was when he saw who was standing behind Yuri. A tall woman with long, pin-straight hair stood in a smart, pressed business suit that was an attractive, bright crimson. She held a large leather handbag and had a fake mole was dotted by her lip.

"Yuri, what did you do?" Victor asked exasperatedly. Yuri looked confused for a second and glanced between Victor and the woman.

"I'm sorry Victor, but I don't understand, she…"

"This woman is not a nice lady. I don't want you talking to her— I don't want _you_ talking to _him_." Victor snapped at the woman, turning to her at his last statement. The woman who snarled at him from where she posed behind Yuri. "You get it?" he demanded, looking back to Yuri and glaring into Yuri's eyes so the boy shrank back. Yuri nodded vigorously, looking scared and the woman behind him patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he's just scared because of my mistake all those years ago and he's taking that fear out on you." she said comfortingly. Yuri nodded, smiling tightly, but seeming to be honestly comforted.

"Dear, God, she's got you too." Victor muttered faintly, seeing the interaction between the woman and Yuri. Yuri looked even more bewildered and the woman sighed.

"Victor, why don't you invite us in. That way we can discuss this in a more… private place." The woman sneered the last words, but patted Yuri on the head when he glanced at her with concern.

"You don't control me anymore." Victor stated. "I want you to leave." The woman rolled her eyes and Yuri let out a sound of surprise and scorn.

"Don't worry, Love. Victor can't help it. He's just like this sometimes." The woman said sympathetically.

"Don't call him that." Victor demanded coldly.

"What?" the woman asked innocently.

"Love." He answered flatly. "Don't call him "Love." The woman's lips curled into a sneer. Yuri glanced back and forth between Victor and the woman, clearly concerned about the interaction.

"Victor?" Yuri asked hesitantly. The woman smirked ferally with blood red lips.

"Yes?" Victor's voice was softer, but he didn't look away from the woman who was eyeing Yuri like he was a piece of meat. Victor hated that. Yuri was not a piece of meat and he was much more than just something pretty to look at.

"Why are you being so mean to your mother?" Yuri asked bluntly. The woman grimaced at the term, as Victor flinched with her. Yuri immediately noticed this and opened his mouth, probably to let out a slew of apologies but Victor tossed an arm around his shoulders, still trying to convince himself that Yuri was really here. Victor's heart fluttered when Yuri leaned into the half-hug.

"Why don't you guys come in? This is going to be a while." Victor pulled Yuri into the hotel room, closely followed by Victor's "mother."

They were seated on the couch with Yuri smack dab between them. Yurio was smart and hid in the bedroom with the door closed. Yuri wished he had taken Yurio's example and skittered off to hide like a scared cat. Anything was better than being stuck between two polar opposites who seemed to hate each other and were unable to talk without ending up yelling about anything and everything. For the first five minutes, they sat in complete silence, and it was so awkward, Yuri wanted to be swallowed up by a hole, or be struck dead by lightning. How was he supposed to know that Victor hated his mother? Or that Victor's mother was a little more than just rough around the edges? She seemed like such a nice lady, at first.

* * *

 _A woman had walked into Yuri's hospital room as Yuri was packing up and preparing to leave the hospital for the first time in months. He had just been given the okay by the doctors to go home with a long list of medications and exercises he had to complete to keep up his condition. Though he was practically back to normal, physically, it would be easy to slip back if he didn't keep moving and pushing himself. The nurses had just been by, dropping off a few gifts for their favourite patient on his last day at hospital when there was a knock on Yuri's door. Yuri looked up and halted his packing when he saw a tall woman with a silvery pony tail and dove-grey eyes standing in the doorway in a tight black dress._

" _Excuse me, but I'm looking for my son. The nurses said I might find him here…" the woman trailed off uncertainly, straightening her dress and smoothing a hand through sleek hair as her nerves got the better of her. Yuri, who was staring with his mouth agape, shook himself._

" _Ah, who is your son?" he asked tightly, anxiously squeezing the shirt he was folding. For some reason this woman made him very nervous. Yuri was already skittish around new people as it was, but this woman… she let off some kind of aura. There was no way to describe it, but it was offsetting and disturbing._

" _His name is Victor. Victor Nikiforov? Do you know where I might find him?" She bit her lip nervously. "It's just that I haven't seen him in so long… I made a mistake. When he was young, I did something…. Bad. And I wanted to apologize. To meet up again. To see my only child for the first time in years." Yuri eyed the woman suspiciously. It was a sad, sweet story. A woman makes a mistake that hurts her child, and she separates herself from the child in order to not hurt him again, however she always hopes of meeting him again someday. It seemed like a chick flick Yuri's mom would watch and cry for days afterwards._

" _I don't know… I mean, I know him… but I don't know where he is… " Yuri said apologetically. Even if he did know where Victor was, he wasn't sure that he would just willingly give away the address to a stranger who claimed to know him, even if that stranger could be his mother. "I'm his friend— Yuri, but I haven't spoken to him in a while."_

" _I don't understand, the nurse I spoke to said that you were really close to him, or maybe I read too far into it and you two are just acquaintances. Either way, I could find out where his apartment or house is, if you give me his phone number." The woman offered innocently. Yuri thought for a moment. He couldn't figure out why he felt so… strange around this woman._

" _Um… okay?" Yuri said uncertainly. The woman grinned, relief shining purely in her eyes._

" _Thank you, so much! I know how weird this must be to you, but I thought I'd surprise Victor, you know? So, if you could it our little secret that I'm going to see him, that would be perfect."_

" _Uh, sure. Yeah, sure, I won't tell anybody." Yuri promised, "Hand me your phone and I'll put his number in for you." Yuri offered. She woman smiled, and passed her phone over, noting that the boy had memorized her son's number. Yuri typed in the number with practiced ease and passed the phone back to the woman._

 _The woman typed furiously in her phone for a second while Yuri stood awkwardly folding the rest of his clothes until she let out a proud shout._

" _Got it!" she exclaimed, holding her phone up to Yuri's face so he could see. She had used an app to track Victor's phone number and there was a map on her screen with a glowing line weaving through the city. "We just have to follow that line and it'll lead us right to Victor." she explained._

" _Are you… Are you sure you want me to go? I mean, isn't this a reunion with your son? You should be together, and not interrupted by someone who, to you, is a stranger." Yuri said._

" _You're my Victor's friend, right? It'll make him happy to be with you." the woman said as if it was obvious._

" _Actually…" Yuri trailed off. He plopped onto the bed, sighing. The woman looked concerned and trotted over to the bed to sit next to him. She felt like a mother coming to comfort her child. Maybe she really was Victor's mother…._

" _What's wrong?" she asked softly, setting a hand lightly on Yuri's shoulder._

" _He…. He was always there for me, you know? And then I screwed up, freaked him out and he still stayed. And then, just when everything seemed okay for once in my life… he just…" Yuri wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together. "He just left." Yuri whispered. "And I don't know where he went, or why he went— well I can guess, anyways, but… I just don't think he wants to see me. Yurio— er, Yuri Plisetsky, he's our other friend— he left, too."_

" _Then let's go find him and see if he's okay. Let's ask why he left, maybe something happened that he didn't tell you. If you come with me, then you'll be able to work it out with him." the woman had a good point._

" _Okay, thank you Mrs. Nikiforov."_

" _No problem, a friend of Victor is a friend of mine!"_

* * *

"Mother what are you doing here?" Victor asked, obviously exasperated. Victor's mother looked shocked.

"Why, Victor— I came because I want to see my son!" she exclaimed, hand on her chest, as if she was morally offended.

"As if, you never look for me unless you want money, or you have another reason to shout at me. So, what is it this time. What did I do now? How much cash do you want? What do I have to do to get you to leave?" Victor demanded.

"Victor!" Yuri exclaimed.

"Yuri, please. Stay out of this, you don't know what all has happened, there's no way you could understand this." Victor said gently, but truthfully.

"While there may be some truth to that, there's still no reason that you should disrespect your mother this way. She may not be perfect, but she loves you. She came all this way for—"

"Yuri, she's here for either money or to yell at me for God knows what. That's just how she is, so please… please stay out of it. I don't want you caught in the middle." Victor said seriously, grabbing Yuri's hand. Yuri was staring at his hand, which was clasped in Victor's. It didn't seem like he was listening, but he wasn't talking, so that was good enough for Victor.

"Now, Mother, what do you want?" Victor demanded.

"Oh, Victor. You know how much I love you—"

"I knew it." Victor muttered, leaning to the side. He dug for something in his pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. "How much?" he asked defeatedly as Yuri looked on in shock. Victor's mother gave a false pout and she fluttered her eyelashes at her son.

"Victor, you are such a dear to your mother." She said, her voice dripping with overly sweet words. Victor didn't even acknowledge her and began leafing through a number of bills. He began to hand over the money, his mother's outstretched hand wriggling its fingers like an impatient child waiting for a treat and that was when Yuri stepped in. Yuri clamped a hand on Victor's wrist, effectively holding him in place.

"Yuri, what—?" Victor began, but was cut off by an angry Yuri.

"You're using him— she's using you, and you're _letting_ her!" Yuri hissed. Victor felt something warm settle in his stomach at the concern and outrage Yuri portrayed on his behalf. Nevertheless, he shook his head and tried to remove himself from Yuri's grasp.

"Yuri, this is just how it is. She always finds a way back to me, even if I change my address, my name, my phone number— I could change everything and, without fail, she'll find me."

"I thought…. I thought…"

"You _didn't_ think, you're just a stupid and naive boy." Victor's mother bit out. "Now fork it over." Her act of being a struggling, but loving mother had dropped dramatically. Now she was the selfish, greedy, thieving witch she really was. She lunged at the money, which was lying in a thick stack on Victor's palm, but Yuri jerked Victor out of the way, money and all.

"Don't talk to him like that!" Victor thundered, jumping to his feet with a murderous glare he threw at his mother. Even Yuri leapt back and there was an audible yelp from someone hiding in the bedroom who really should learn to eavesdrop better.

"Don't talk to _me_ like that! I'm your mother, you oughta respect me!" Victor's mother shouted back, also on her feet now. Yuri cowered back into the couch cushions, effectively pinned between to very angry people.

"I'll respect you when you've earned it." Victor spat. "You've done nothing but bully me, steal from me and interrupt my life and the lives of the people I care about!"

"It's not my fault I need a little help every now and then!"

"If you got a job, maybe you wouldn't need help! And what's your excuse for bullying me, picking on me, calling me names, hurting me— what's your brilliant excuse?" Victor demanded, voice cracking with strain and emotion. Yuri reached up a hand in awe and gripped Victor's sleeve. Victor frantically reached to squeeze Yuri's hand in his own.

"I must not have done enough, seeing what you've done with yourself." She sneered. Yuri blinked in confusion, but Victor seemed to know exactly what she meant.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about that in front of him." Victor whispered in a cold, hallow voice. The woman just smirked.

"Touch a sore spot, did I? Don't want your little friend to know you're just a backwards, evil, fa—"

"Don't you say it!" a fourth voice burst out. The crowd of three looked up to see Yurio standing in the living room, having charged in from the bedroom. "Don't you dare say it in front of Yuri, because I swear to God if you do, I won't be responsible for what I do to you, or what Victor does to you, or what any of our many strong, athletic friends would do to you if you said it. Stop while you're ahead sister." Yurio's eyes were smoldering with anger.

"Say… what exactly?" Yuri asked, feeling as if he was missing something.

"It's a not nice word for men who like other men." Victor muttered under his breath, slipping his hand out of Yuri's. Yuri suddenly felt cold. He stared down at his hand, thinking about the implications of everything. The arguing continued around Yuri, but he felt as if he was hearing their voices through water. Muted, distorted, far away.

"Victor I remember something." Yuri said matter of factly. Victor's head swung to stare at Yuri in surprise.

"Oh, my God. Do you feel okay? Do you need to sit down? Sit down, sit down! Do you need water? Yurio what did the doctors say about seizures, will he get other ones?" Victor babbled on.

"Victor, I'm okay…." Yuri tried, but Victor was shouting orders. He sent Yurio running for blankets and his mother to fill a glass of water. Yuri was surprised when the woman leapt up to obey Victor's command. Yuri wondered if maybe Victor's mother wasn't as bad as she seemed, or if she was really trying to make up with Victor.

"Victor, seriously. I'm not having a seizure." Victor immediately stopped his efforts in making a stubborn Yuri lay down.

"Oh. You're not?"

"No, I'm not."

"Oh… so what… what's happening then?" Victor asked, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment.

"I remembered something." Yuri said. Victor grinned down at him with a sad smile.

"And what did you remember?" he asked softly. What happened next ended Victor's whole world.

 _Dear God, he knows…_

"I remember that…. I remember that you love me."

Well. Дерьмо.

 **AN:**

 **I love Victor's mom. But I also hate her.**

 **Also, at the beginning of this whole fic, I was going to try to work in the phrase "I've got you" or some form of it just because I couldn't come up with a title and I saw that phrase in the first two chapters I had prepared and was like well I might as well. Except I didn't take into account for the fact that eventually I would forget to try to incorporate that, so I'll play it off like this: at the start, they said "I've got you" but now they have new phrases and supportive sayings. Like "maybe 'nothing is okay' is an overstatement," stuff like that.**

 **As always, request as much as you want, review to help me be a better write (or if you just want to let me know that I'm doing a fantastic job** **). As always, I look forward to hearing from you guys!**


	12. Homophobic Tea and the Moments After

**AN:**

 **I had nothing for this chapter and then I was attacked by the muses and now I have everything for this chapter alleluia amen.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **This chapter may be slightly all over the place, pardon for my inability to make things flow better it's been a HELLA crazy week.**

 **Also, I got in a debate with my family just recently over whether fanfiction is an actual, respectable genre (which it is. Don't worry, I defended this beautiful website wholeheartedly). Did you know S.E Hinton writes fanfiction? How freaking cool is that? It's Supernatural fanfiction— SUPERNATURAL CAN I GET WHAT WHATTTTT**

 **I'll shut up now, enjoy.**

CH12— Homophobic Tea and the Moments After

Yurio was scared.

Nope.

Yurio was _terrified_.

He was currently perched stiffly on one of the comfy arm chairs that sat catty-cornered to the sofa holding Yuri, Victor and….

Victor's mother.

Yurio never really met Victor's mother other than the few minutes she spared of her busy life to go to her husband's funeral. Yurio remembered standing in the typical funeral weather (dark, rainy and freezing) completely in black as a teary-eyed Victor stood beside him, also in all black. He remembered looking around for a woman who might resemble Victor. He looked for a slim build, maybe silvery hair, graceful movements, but he was having no luck. Having never seen Victor's mother before that day, Yurio was curious as to what she looked like.

And then, just when he was about to give up hope, he noticed a woman in a sharp black pantsuit standing off on the edge of the cemetery, holding a black umbrella and wearing dark tinted glasses. It was a dark rainy day. And she was wearing sunglasses. That's the strongest memory that Yurio had of Victor's mother. The fact that she was wearing shades in the rain.

Almost a second after Yurio noticed her, Victor had looked up at her and if looks could kill, the woman would have been dead six times over. Yurio was almost scared for Victor after he saw the look on his older friend's face. If Yurio made that face at someone older than him, his parents— his guardian— would scream at him until he went deaf. Seeing the look on Victor's face, the woman pursed her blood red lips and strutted off to a sleek black car as if she were on a runway. Then she got in the back of the car and the thing sped off like she was being followed.

And that was Yurio's first encounter with Victor's mother. No words were exchanged but Yurio learned a lot about her nonetheless. And here she was, sitting in Yurio's and Victor's safe haven looking like she owned the place. Yurio was not pleased. And he was terrified of her. And of the reactions she elicited from Victor.

Victor was always cool, calm and collected, or he was peppy, flirty and loud. He wasn't angry or explosive, he wasn't sullen or subdued. But he was all of these new emotions when it came to his mother. And seeing Victor so out of control and panicked, made Yurio freak out and seeing both Yurio and Victor freaked out, was clearly upsetting Yuri as well. Yurio only knew a few of the things that Yuri's blank mask could hide, so he was a little concerned about what all his friend was thinking. The occasional glares Yuri cast at him were telling enough about a few things, anyways.

"So, Yuri, tell me about yourself." Victor's mother (Yurio cringed at calling her that word, even in his head. "Mother" was an earned title, it was a privilege that this woman had not yet earned and probably never would earn) effectively broke the silence. Yuri perked up at his name, visibly nervous at the question and the almost dismissive tone it was asked in.

"Ah…" Yuri trailed of eloquently, big panicked eyes glancing at Victor.

"Yuri won silver." Victor spoke up proudly, beaming at his student, referring to their latest competition adventure. Yuri blushed under the attention as Yurio cuffed him on the shoulder in a friendly, congratulatory manner. Yurio had to notice how Victor's tone changed. He sounded like a little kid trying to impress his mother. No matter how much Victor acted like he hated his mother, he still felt that urge and desire for acceptance and encouragement that any child would expect from a good parent. Yurio found this interesting.

"That's nice dear. Yuri, I hear you had a recent accident? I know we talked a bit at the hospital, but we didn't discuss how exactly you fell from this cliff." The woman sounded like she was interviewing a possible future employee or something. She set Yurio on edge. For some reason he really wanted to punch her, and he had no idea why.

"That… that was an accident." Yuri stated flatly. Victor cocked his head, looking suddenly skeptical. That was when Yurio remembered that Yuri hadn't exactly been free and willing with the details of his misadventure. If he even remembered them.

"An accident? How so?" Victor's mother asked, delicate eyebrow raising as she took a sip of the tea Victor had made while the three boys waited for her to return from freshening up.

"Slipped." Yuri answered curtly, quickly taking a gulp off tea.

"Slipped? Was it wet, outside?" she asked suspiciously,

"Sure."

"You had to have been somewhere deep in the forest, there would have been warning signs up otherwise."

"Of course."

"Do you remember the moments leading up to when you fell? Maybe you were distracted, maybe you were having a bad day and, well, saw an opportunity?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean… ma'am." Yuri stated darkly, looking over the rim of his mug. His expression seemed to be warning her to turn back now, but of course she ironed him and kept saying stupid things.

"Well, I don't know everything, of course," Victor's mother flashed a feral smile. "However, I do know that you've been struggling for a while. That your heart," here she paused and put a hand over her chest, "your heart is heavy." She had a sympathetic smile, but Yurio was choking with laughter.

"You've got to be kidding me," he choked inaudibly. He pretended to cough into his fist, then sipped his tea.

"You okay, Yurio?" Yuri asked obliviously.

"Yeah, great, thanks." Yurio hacked as Victor smirked behind his hand.

"Boys, please act your age." Victor's mother reprimanded. Victor stuck his tongue out at her when she looked away, which only made Yurio snicker.

"You are not children, grow up." Victor's mother added.

"Actually…" Victor trailed off, looking over to Yurio and they both burst into gleeful laughs. Yuri just glanced between the both of them, looking slightly bewildered while Victor's mother pursed her lips and sipped her tea with her pinky sticking out. This only sparked harder laughter. Victor clutched his ribs and gasped between laughs while Yurio's eyes filled with tears of mirth.

"Am I missing something?" Yuri asked. This set the boys off again.

"You know, I went through a lot to get here. You'd think my son would be a little more welcoming, a little more kind." Victor's mother. At this, Victor's laughter became cynical.

"I'm not _kind_ to bi—" Yurio clapped his hands over Yuri's ears, much to the boy's embarrassment.

...

"Yurio, off!" Yuri whined, batting at his friend's hands. Yurio ignored him and Yuri sighed, watching Victor' shout angrily at his mother without being able to hear what his coach was saying. He had a feeling the words were not very kind, judging by the look on the woman's face and the fact that Yurio saw it appropriate to keep Yuri from hearing whatever was being said. It was when the woman's face turned bright red and she started shouting back at Victor that Yuri took action.

He threw off Yurio, making the boy thud to the floor on his back like an overturned beetle. Without his ear protector, Yuri was bombarded with an onslaught of colourful words. It wasn't like he had never heard these words before. Contrary to popular belief, Yuri was 23. As an adult. As in full functioning, grown-up, not-a-little-kid-anymore-adult. He knew about curse words. He had used curse words. He rather liked curse words.

So, when he heard these words coming a mother and her child, Yuri was the least bit surprised. Yurio, however, was scandalized, which Yuri found to be hilarious. Yurio had jumped up from his spot on the floor and tried to tackle Yuri down, however his foot caught on the rug and he just fell back onto the floor again, this time on his face.

"Hey, what's— Yurio, you alright?" Yuri called over his shoulder to his fallen friend. Yurio groaned. "I'll take that as a… yes?" Yuri's words were swallowed by the continuing argument between mother and son.

"Well, if I'm such a disappointment and waste, why did you even keep me?" Victor was yelling hoarsely, eyes red with unshed tears. Yuri felt shocked. Victor was shouting things Yuri thought he'd never hear his normally kind and cheerful coach say.

"I don't know, maybe it was because of the pressure from the people. Do you know how bad it would look if a successful, talented actress like myself suddenly gave up her bastard child?"

"Don't call him that!" Yuri interjected, but no one seemed to hear him.

"Maybe instead of thinking about yourself all the time, you should've thought about your child instead. For _once_. Think of someone other than yourself!"

"And if I had, where would you be? With a couple who works night and day, yet still can't provide for you, like your little friend here?" she pointed at Yuri. "His parents _live_ where they work, _he_ lives where his parents work, and they _still_ can't supply the things that I can for you, Victor!"

"Yeah, well, at least he gets support! At least he knows he's loved, he knows he matters!" Victor shouted back, chest heaving. He swiped a hand across his eyes angrily, tears visibly gleaming on his cheeks. "At least he knows he's not a mistake, that he's not just a-a burden and— and— and a secret to be hidden away from everybody and… and.. and…" here, Victor was practically hyperventilating. Yuri grabbed Victor's shoulder, spinning his coach to look at him.

"No." Yuri snapped, shaking a finger in Victor's face. Victor blinked, not processing. "You are not a mistake. You are not a burden. You are not a secret." Yuri hissed viciously, almost threateningly.

"What? Y-Yuri, are— I— what—" Victor stammered, blushing.

"You are loved. You matter. You are important, you stupid, _stupid_ man!" Yuri interrupted. At this point, Yuri was aggressively hugging Victor like he was going to blow away in the wind. Yurio sat nursing his bruised elbow from his face plant on the floor.

"Are you gay?" In response to the sudden question, the room went silent. The ticking of the clock was like a roar. For once in his life, Yurio was silent, dumbfounded, even. Yuri and Victor glanced at each other then back at the woman who asked the question.

"Wait, what?" Yuri asked.

"Are you. Gay." Victor's mother repeated. There was another short pause of silence before anyone wrapped their head around the insensitive question. Though let it be noted that it wasn't so much the question and it was the way the question was asked, that set the room into angry attack mode.

"How is this any of your business?" Victor shouted as Yurio glared daggers at the woman.

"Um… I don't know if I should…" Yuri trailed off, feeling very uncomfortable and somewhat offended, but was unable to explain why.

"You're spending quite an amount of time with my son, no? It's my business." Victor's mother leaned back, sipping her tea as if it were wine and she was lounging in a country club.

"Uh, actually, I told you we haven't really seen each other much, so—" Yuri said softly, avoiding Victor's eyes as much as possible. He was currently analyzing the carpet at the moment.

"It's a simple question—"

"Mother." Victor snapped, making the woman look up in shock. "Stop." The woman's expression went from shock to a knowing and borderline murderous sneer.

"I _thought_ so." She said, grimacing at Yuri as she shifted a little further away on the couch. Yuri did the same, flinching away from her. His actions had him cowering against Victor who almost bodily pulled Yuri further away from his mother.

"Do you have a _problem_?" Victor demanded. Yuri blinked at the rumbly vibrations coming from his friend's chest. Yuri felt a…. tingly and warm, which was both pleasant and confusing. Were these early symptoms of a fever? Or diabetes? Isn't it diabetes that gives you tingly feelings?

"Look, Victor. I just want to make sure you're making the right decisions—"

"The right de—" Victor's voice pitched up an octave and he broke off with almost hysterical laughter, which had Yuri slightly concerned about his coach's mental state. "And since when have you cared about whether or not I make the right _decisions_?" he demanded. His mother opened her mouth, ready to defend herself, but Victor held a finger up, pausing her.

"Oh right, I forgot." He said with a false sweetness. "The moment what I do affects you, you come right back, swinging to keep your stupid kid from making horrible choices that will make you look bad." Victor wrapped his arms tightly around Yuri. "Like, for instance, who said child decides to care about."

Yuri thought he was going to have a heart attack with the rate that his heart was going. Tight chest, shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat— those were the symptoms of a heart attack, right? Wait, wasn't his arm supposed to be numb? Wasn't he too young to have a heart attack? Yuri's brain was working at warp speed, running through the symptoms of heart failure, heart attack, stroke and other heart problems that he had researched when he learned that his father was at a risk of having possible future cardiac issues. It felt like he was a data center, numbers and words and images flashing across his vision as he visualized the articles and websites.

"Yuri, freaking breath, you idiot." Yurio muttered sharply, glaring at Yuri who hadn't realized he had been holding his breath. He felt a warm hand rub his back and soft murmurs in his ear. He grasped onto the sleeve of the hand and onto the soft voice, attempting to ground himself before he had a full-blown panic attack.

"Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, Yuri…" the voice in his ear whispered. Yuri swallowed, his mouth dry as he attempted to respond.

"V-Vi…" Yuri couldn't get passed the first syllable and it was _bothering_ him, which only made it harder to think straight. Why couldn't he say a stupid _name_ without panicking?

"Yeah, I'm here," the voice— Victor— responded urgently, almost panicking itself.

"Vic…. Vic…" he breathed in gasps. It was like he couldn't get enough air, like he was drowning on land what is happening, _what is happening_ —

"Calm, Love, calm I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. What do you need, what can I do?"

"I… I… I…" Yuri choked on the little air he was getting between stammers and stutters.

"Don't force yourself— deep breaths, that's it. Breath with me." Victor immediately began taking long, deep breaths while holding Yuri against his chest like a mother consoling a small child. He rubbed Yuri's arms roughly as if to bring the boy back to the present.

"This is ridiculous— is he okay?" a sharp voice— Victor's mother, Yuri realized— interjected demandingly. At least she had the decency to look concerned, though she still had the gall to be irritated and put off by Yuri's little breakdown.

"Oh yeah, he perfectly freaking fine. Just got out of the hospital only to be attacked with random, stupid questions— some of which bringing up bad memories or painful experiences. Yeah, no, he's _fine_." Yurio sneered from his curled-up position on the armchair, shaking his head as he muttered to himself about "incompetent, mentally deficient parents" and "stupid, insensitive worthless lumps of flesh." Victor's mother looked a little miffed but thankfully kept quiet, for now.

"Sor-sor-sorry…" Yuri managed before he bit his tongue with his chattering teeth. He felt so cold all of the sudden. Seeing this, Yurio leapt off his chair and flew into the bedroom. Just when Yuri cast a confused glance up at Victor, Yurio came back with a thick woolen blanket, which he dropped unceremoniously on Yuri's head. Victor muttered his thanks and tucked the blanket around his friend, still holding the boy close. Despite the closeness of Victor, Yuri still found himself feeling vulnerable and unprotected and alone.

"And don't apologize, it's annoying." Yurio huffed elegantly. Yuri didn't respond and only reached out a shaking hand towards his younger friend, seeking more comfort and, hopefully, more protection. Seeing the desperate look in Yuri's eyes, Yurio got up off the chair and darted over to the couch, where he sat sandwiching Yuri between himself and Victor. "If you need something, just say it." Yurio grumbled irritably, laying so his head was on Yuri's chest. Yuri clenched an arm around Yurio's torso and held on as if for dear life.

"S-sor—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're sorry." Yurio said, gruffly affectionate as he reached behind himself to ruffle Yuri's dark hair. Yuri whined and shook his head, so his hair fell back into place, but his actions were inhibited by Victor, who rested his cheek on the downy locks.

And that is how a homophobic woman ended up sipping tea on a couch with her estranged son who was cuddling with his two male friends, one of which who had fallen off a cliff recently.

"Ugh, how obscene." Victor's mother grumbled into her teacup, sounding ill. Yurio merely glared at her, while Yuri turned his head and attempted to hide his face in Yurio's long blonde hair.

"Mother, please. If you cannot be civil, I will not have you in my home." Victor warned.

"Home? Please, this is only a hid-out for you because you're too scared to come to your real home, in Russia." His mother then smiled sweetly. "Dearest… please come home? Your mother misses you _so_ much." The woman fluttered her eyelashes and was practically pouting.

"Home?" Yurio barked out a short laugh. "Don't make me laugh, lady. That place was never more than a prison to him." Victor reached around Yuri to squeeze Yurio's hand, effectively silencing the boy.

"Victor…?" Yuri asked softly, voice warbling slightly from his emotionally break. "What was your… the place you grew up in… what was it like?"

...

The innocent curiosity was a slap in the face. Victor hated talking about that place. Hated it. Wouldn't do it. But it was clear that Yuri didn't mean anything by his question. He was just being honestly concerned for a friend.

"It's not important, Yuri." He said flatly. "Don't worry about it."

"But..." Yuri trailed off, looking uncertain as if he wasn't sure whether he should continue to press for answers, yet found himself immensely curious.

"Yuri." Yurio hissed. "Not now." Yuri fell silent, turning to his side so his face nuzzled into and hid in Victor's chest. Victor pet his friend's hair soothingly, letting him know that he wasn't really offended by the question.

"No, Yuri has the right to ask." Victor's mother spoke up. "Or are you keeping secrets from your so-called "friends" now, too?" his mother sneered. Victor's head snapped up, almost giving him whiplash.

"You don't know what you're talking about." He pulled his friends closer, as if to shield them from his mother.

"Well, something must have gone wrong, obviously." The woman said. "I mean look who you're hanging out with: an immature child, and a fa—"

" _Get out_!" Yurio shouted, leaping from the couch, Victor not far from her. Poor Yuri, having suddenly lost all support, fell backwards onto the couch then rolled off with a heavy thud and a sharp yelp.

"Yuri!" Yurio shouted, leaning down to help his friend up as Victor faced his mother. Victor stormed halfway down the hallway where the front door was.

"Get out!" he practically shrieked with anger. "Get out of my home, you selfish, hateful, egotistical, homophobic, self-righteous, bi—"

"Careful, Victor, I don't think Russia can hear you yet." His mother said dryly, not looking the least bit offended by his harsh words. Victor's ivory skin flushed pink with anger as he pointed to the door.

"Out," he bit out, like a demand for an animal. His mother looked monetarily shocked, as if she were being told "no" for the first time.

"You can't do that." She said uncertainly.

"And why, praytell, can I not?"

"Who's going to support you?" she challenged. "Money, connections, a home, family. Who's going to help you if you turn me away?" Victor blinked at her. He turned and glanced between her and Yuri and Yurio, who were awkwardly trying to get Yuri off the floor. The poor boy was a bit out of shape from the hospital stays, despite the physical therapy.

"Who do you think they are?" he demanded, pointing at Yuri and Yurio. "Just some neighbors I'm over friendly with— no, _this_ is my family." He said. "These are the people who will never leave me, these are the people who will always accept me and be on my side. And _you_ —" he stabbed a finger at her, eyes glistening and voice sounding thick. " _You_ are the stranger, _you_ are the one who doesn't belong, _you_ are the one who is going to get out of my house _so help me God_!" Victor's chest was heaving by now. His face was a full-on tomato red, and his voice was thunderous. Yuri looked impressed, if not slightly terrified, and Yurio looked relieved, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a while.

"Why, Victor, I—"

"Leave." Victor said with chilling coolness. His voice didn't shake, or crack. He didn't yell or cry. He said it simply, but he said it powerfully. Leave now, or accept the consequences. It was silent in the room, except for the sound of the heating and people entering and leaving their rooms. Also, there was a Spanish soap opera going on in the room next to them and it was kind of ruining the mood.

"Fine. I can see when I'm not wanted." The woman set her teacup on the coffee table and flounced to the hall, where she slipped into her coat and opened the door. Standing in the doorway, that woman turned around and looked over her shoulder.

"Victor, dear?" she said in a motherly tone. Victor had a weary look.

"You're going to regret this." She said darkly, slamming the door behind her, leaving three boys alone in an uncomfortable silence.

...

"Shouldn't you go home at some point? Or at least call your parents or something?" Yurio asked Yuri, eyes still glued to the TV screen. He held a control between his small hands and his thumbs moved rapidly across the keys. "You just got out of the hospital and all you do is disappear to your friend's place. Specifically, the friend who ditched you at the hospital."

"Actually, you _both_ ditched me. And, yeah, it's been... what, eight hours since I got out?" Yuri asked distractedly, his own thumbs also flickering across a controller. He hissed and scrunched his nose in disproval as his character crashed into a wall, bounced off, hit another opponent, and spun off the edge of the road into the abyss of nothing.

"Why don't you _both_ go home?" Victor wondered aloud before suddenly bursting out in loud expletives. "Why do I always _lose_!?" he complained, throwing his controller down before flopping onto the ground. Yurio snickered and tossed a few pieces of popcorn at his friend. The boys were sprawled across the floor and the couch fighting in a hardcore, very competitive battle of a popular American game called Mario Cart. Yurio was winning, Yuri was struggling, and Victor was failing fabulously.

"It's because you always pick Princess Peach, and everyone knows she sucks—"

"Hey! You're just jealous of her magical pink lady powers!" Victor said, righting himself as he glared at the "12th place" that flashed across his portion of the screen. "This is bull, I totally deserved to win that."

"You weren't even close. At least Yuri can complain, he made third because of freaking Bowser throwing that god dang turtle shell— I mean how weird is that? Come on America, stop throwing turtle shells at each other—"

"Wait, I thought this game was Japanese—"

"Yuri, you think everything good is Japanese—"

"That's because it is. Anyways, I had a good run. Could've gone better, but it could've gone worse." Yuri shrugged, taking a sip from the can of soda on his left. He was unsure if it was his or not, but found himself so comfortable with his surroundings, that he didn't care. It was a nice change, the fact that he was so comfortable. He was used to living in a hospital where you had to ask before you got up to pee. Here, he felt like he could do anything. The power of friendship is a wonderful thing.

"As I was saying, shouldn't you call your parents if you're going to start living here from now on?" Yurio asked.

"Living here from now on? I've only been here for like—"

"Hours," Yurio interjected. "You've been here for hours. I thought you were going to run off after Victor's stupid mom left. You looked ready to cry a river like a little baby—"

"I apologize if my existence is in some way either inhibiting or irritating you." Yuri interrupted flatly, clearly miffed. Yurio glanced over at him in bewildered confusion before glancing back at his screen.

"How do you mean?" he asked, sounding almost bewildered.

"Look." Yuri started, turning his whole body to face Yurio. Yurio leaned back, looking panicked. "I know you don't like me, and all, but it kind of feels like this apartment is the only place for me to not worry about either being ignored or stalked by my own family. It feels like I belong here and like this is ho—." Yuri said broke off. "Just let me exist peacefully and quietly, and I won't bother you." Yuri said steely. Yurio's character on the screen crashed off the edge of the road.

"What…" Victor muttered in confusion.

"If I go home, I have to deal with yelling parents and hiding sisters and staring guests and everyone looking at me like they're expecting that once I go behind closed doors I'll off myself—" Yuri sighed heavily, head burrowing in his hands. Victor and Yuri traded concerned glances. "I don't want that." Yuri said lowly. "I like it here better. I won't live here or anything, I'm not that crazy. But I'll just come whenever I'm welcome. That's all." Yuri shrugged, eyes turning from the floor to the screen. "Sorry if that disturbs anybody."

"Don't worry Yuri. No body's telling you to leave." Victor said lightly. Yuri grinned, and the room settled back into a comfortable silence, except for the cheery music coming from the TV.

"I don't _not_ like you." Yurio spoke up. Yuri glanced over to his friend of sorts with a shy but growing grin.

"Yeah?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. Don't tell anyone."

"I won't."

"I just don't like you like a… best friend…" Yurio said awkwardly stumbling over the affectionate term. Yuri's grin wavered, but it whipped back into place when the doorbell rang. He shouted with joy, exclaiming his praise to God for the pizzaman having come so quickly. he was completely oblivious to the death glare Victor was sending to Yurio as his bare feet pattered against the wooden floors, practically dancing over to the door. While Yuri was at the door accepting their pizzas, Victor turned to Yurio.

"You're a danged liar, little brother." He whispered. Yurio glared at him.

"I didn't lie. I don't hate him and that's the truth." Yurio hissed back.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Victor said shaking his head. Yurio glared at him sideways. "You care about him as much as I do."

"Actually, I don't think anyone cares about him as much as you do." Yurio grinned slyly.

"What do you mean?" Victor asked, cocking his head in confusion. Yurio face-panned as he slowly turned to face his old friend.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"What?" Victor demanded, sounding nervous.

"You can't tell me that _the_ Victor Nikiforov, flirty bachelor of Russia, has no idea what's I'm talking about! I'm literally about to pitch myself off a cliff."

"Yurio!"

"Too soon?" Yurio asked with a clear lack of concern.

"It will always be too soon!"

"Duly noted."

"What is it that I should know?"

"You're really oblivious… you really are… I can't believe you're oblivious, I thought you were fooling with me!" Yurio practically shrieked, eliciting a concerned shout from Yuri down the hall.

"If I'm oblivious, I'm obviously not following, so you should probably explain what it is that I'm missing."

"You and Yuri, is what you're missing." Yurio stated as if it were obvious. Victor stared expectantly.

"Yuri and I… what? What about us?"

" _Are_ you _kidding_ me?!" Yurio shouted. "It's the fact that you're in _love_ with him— mph!" Yurio was cut off as Victor body slammed him, hand cupping over Yurio's mouth.

"Shut up!" Victor hissed loudly, hearing the longwinded conversation between Yuri and the pizzaman in the other room finally come to a close. The door slammed shut, rattling on its surface and Yuri padded down the hall, carrying three large boxes. A mouthwatering aroma of hot, cheesy pizza wafted in the room.

"Victor?" Yuri had stopped in the doorway and cocked his head in confusion, staring at Victor.

"Huh— wha?" he asked eloquently.

"What are you doing to Yurio?"

"What?"

"I said, what are you doing to Yurio? You look like you're trying to suffocate him." At this, Victor looked down to see Yurio struggling under him, arms pinwheeling as he attempted to hit Victor or knock him off.

"Ah, sorry about that, Yurio." Victor mumbled with embarrassment as he recalled what Yurio had said.

" _It's the fact that you're in love with him—"_

Victor slid off of Yurio, who was gasping dramatically for breath.

"Oh, calm down. I'm not that heavy." Victor muttered mercilessly as he skedaddled into the kitchen. He pretended to be getting a drink, but actually was trying to calm himself down. He felt the heavy blush radiating off of his cheeks and knew he looked flustered.

"Stupid Yurio." He muttered pulling a can of soda from the fridge. He cracked it open and leaned against the counter, taking a long drink. With his eyes closed, he tilted his head back, savoring the cool, crisp flavour of Coke while easing his racing heart.

Why did the word "love" get him so worked up? It was just a stupid, meaningless, useless little word. Victor straightened and opened his eyes to see a vase of blue daises sitting on the table. Mocking him.

True love.

New beginnings.

Innocence.

Purity.

Chastity.

(Also, childbirth and motherhood but Victor didn't dwell too much on those interpretations of daisies).

This stupid little flower with its stupid cheery shape and its stupid bright colour were mocking him. This is not what he needed at the moment.

The word "love" was still flitting through his head.

Victor banged his head against the fridge.

"Dear Lord, kill me now."

"Nah, maybe later." A voice answered. Victor started. Yuri.

"What—" Victor's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and started again, much to Yuri's obvious amusement. "What are you doing in here?"

"I _was_ getting another drink, but it looks like I walked in on an existential— and possibly theological— crisis. Care to explain?" Yuri asked, tugging open the fridge. Victor blushed when Yuri bent over.

"Ah— n-no, that is— I'm okay, I'm not— it's all good, I don't…" Victor trailed off.

 _Yuri had finished poking around in the fridge and was now tilting his head all the way back, exposing a long column of ivory skin as he took a long drink from a can of soda. When he brought his head back down, he wiped a dribble of sweet, sticky residue from his lips and licked away the remaining liquid on his hand._

" _Victor what's wrong?" Yuri asked, cocking his head like a puppy. "Are you okay?" his eyes were wide and concerned. "Victor?"_

"Victor? Hellloooo, Earth to Victor? Victor, what's wrong?" Victor snapped to attention. Yuri was standing in front of him, cracking open a can of soda. Victor felt confused. Didn't Yuri already have an open can? Wasn't he just drinking from it? Wait. What?

"Victor!"

"What!" Victor responded instinctively to the loud sharp tone. He glanced over to see that the voice belonged to Yurio who was giving him a sly, knowing smile.

"Day dreaming?" Yurio asked suggestively, wiggling his hips. Victor scowled at him.

"I was thinking."

"Sure, you were." Yurio scoffed.

"Sorry, Victor. Did I disturb you?" Yuri asked honestly, looking as if he was going to head back into the living room. "I can go…"

"No!" Victor shouted. Both Yuri and Yurio jumped. "Ah, sorry, I mean… no, you're not bothering me. You don't have to leave."

"Thank you, but…" Yuri grinned gently. "I meant go to the other room, not go as in leave." Victor wanted to shoot himself. "But it's really nice to see that you really want me here." Victor nodded vigorously, slightly relived.

"Yeah, if you leave, I'm stuck with _him_." Victor said, jerking a thumb over to Yurio. Yuri snickered behind his hand. Just then his phone rang, a loud cheery jingle demanding attention in the living room.

"Ah, excuse me." Yuri said politely, jogging out of the room. That left just Victor and Yurio. Again. Ah, Fate. What an awful wench she is.

"Sooooo….." Yurio said, obviously expecting something. Victor quirked an eyebrow wondering if there was a return address for Weird Obnoxious Little Russian Best Friend.

"What do you want." Victor demanded flatly.

" _What do I_ —" Yurio groaned and slapped a hand over his face. "What were you thinking about?" he said slowly as if he were speaking to a small child.

"What do you mean?" Victor asked, knowing exactly what Yurio meant.

"You know exactly what I mean." Yurio snapped. Weird Obnoxious Little Mind-Reading Russian Best Friend With Too Much Attitude.

"I'm sure I don't."

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you."

"Oh, yeah?" Victor challenged, crossing his arms confidently. "And why is that?"

"I have blackmail." Yurio stated proudly.

"What blackmail?"

"You admitted that you like Yuri.

"You— you can't prove it." Victor sputtered.

"You know Yuri. He assumes that all friends and family are completely 100% honest and truthful with him at all times. No way is he going to question whether or not it's a lie."

"What if I tell him it's a lie?" Victor challenged again. "What will he do then? Say that _I'm_ lying? We've gone through Hell and back together. You're just an old schoolyard bully."

"I am not—!" Yurio started, but skidded to a halt in his argument. "Wait, am I really a schoolyard bully?"

"What? No! You're just… harsh. And you say what you think. And you think… harshly." Yurio considered this for a moment and shrugged, nodding nonchalantly.

"Yeah, okay. But I can still blackmail you. You do all sorts of dumb stuff, I have lots of options."

"I may do dumb things, but I have no shame!" Victor grinned triumphantly.

"That's not something to be proud of." Yurio pointed out

"I resent that."

"What were you thinking?"

"Fight me!"

"Name a time and a place— I'll win anywhere, anytime." Yurio said confidently.

"I'm not—"

"Yuri! Victor said he loves y—!"

"I will fight you."

"Victor put down the knife—"

"Stop trying to blackmail me."

"Victor, knife! Please!"

"Promise you won't blackmail me and I'll put it down!"

"Victor, Yurio— what's going on in—" Yuri stopped when he reached the doorway of the kitchen and froze.

"Don't come any closer!" Victor demanded, waving a large butcher knife at Yurio, who was backed against the fridge. "And get off the fridge, Yurio, you'll get fingerprints all over it!" Yurio muttered an apology and did what he was told.

"Victor, what—" Yuri thought for a second. "Yurio, what did you do?"

"ME? I didn't do _anything_!" Yurio exclaimed, sounding offended.

"Why don't I believe you."

"Because you're smart." Victor interjected.

"No one asked you, Victor!"

"Yurio, be nice!"

"I'm not sorry!"

"Don't make me come over there…"

"Aw, come on! I'm being held at knife-point by a crazy man, and now I have a freaking _mom_ threatening me from the sidelines?" Yurio said incredulously.

"Victor, put down the knife." Yuri demanded.

"No!"

"Victor."

"Never!"

"Vi—"

"Not until he promises not to blackmail me!"

"Jeezus Christ, how old are you two? Yurio, why are you blackmailing Victor?"

"I just wanted to know what he was thinking about that got him all blushing and red!" Yurio sounded as if he believed this was a reasonable request.

"It's probably private, so he didn't tell you, am I right?" Yuri guessed.

"Yeah, so… I'm blackmailing him."

"What are you blackmailing him with?" Yuri asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"The fact that he loves—"

"Don't say it!" Victor demanded, lunging closer.

"Woah, woah, hey man, you said that he wouldn't believe me anyways!" Yurio exclaimed, arms raised as he backed into the fridge again.

"Yurio!"

"What?!"

"Get off the fridge!"

"Oh, sorry Victor."

"And I don't care, for the record, it'll just be a headache to prove I'm right and that your blackmail is a _lie._ " Victor hissed.

"Yurio, what have we said about lying?" Yuri interrupted. Yurio hung his head.

"To not to… wait, I'm not lying though!"

"Yes, you are!" Victor retorted.

"No, I know I'm right."

"For Christ's sake, what is the blackmail? Just tell me!" Yuri demanded.

"Victor's in love with you!" Yurio shouted, but a voice overlapped his.

"Don't believe him!" Victor had practically shrieked at the same time as Yurio. There was a moment of silence before Yurio and Victor began shouting and screaming at each other unintelligibly. Yuri just stood in the middle of it as pointing fingers (and knives) and screaming voices from red faces created a storm between them.

"Wait…" Yuri trailed off, but his voice wasn't carried through the squabbling.

"Wait!" Yuri said louder, hands going out to separate the two idiots fighting. Eventually, they calmed and stood in silence, staring at each other with heaving chests.

"Victor… you… do you…." Yuri trailed off. He was very unsure how to feel. He was hopeful, but he hadn't really thought much of how he felt about a man he basically just met. Everyone said that he and Victor had been friends for many years before, but, due to a lovely bout with amnesia, Yuri still didn't have all his memories of Victor. He had a good amount now, and was remembering more with each passing day, but he didn't know if he'd ever have every memory back. So far, he didn't have any memories of feeling…. _that_ towards his coach.

"You…"

"Of course not." Victor snapped coldly. Both Yuri and Yurio watched Victor with wide eyes.

"What?" Yuri asked, heart plummeting.

"Why would I want someone like _you_?" Victor added.

"Victor, what are you…?" Yuri felt overwhelmed, but in the bad way.

"There's no way I'd ever love someone like you." Victor said harshly

"Victor!" Yurio barked.

"Someone who needs attention, who lives for attention and will do anything to get it. I mean, falling off a cliff? Really?"

"Victor, shut up!" Yurio shouted. Yuri was cowering in the door way, half of his body hidden behind one of the tall columns that made up the grand doorway.

"I can't believe you thought I'd like a _guy_." Victor laughed bitterly. "I'm not a—" suddenly Victor found himself lying on the ground wheezing for breath, having been knocked over by a strong force.

"I don't know _what_ is wrong with you, but I swear to God if you say that word in front of Yuri, I _will_ make you regret it." Yurio snarled in the most feral, nasty, hateful way he could. He was on top of Victor, pushing him into the cold, hard floor and was gripping the older man's shirt by the collar. Victor's nasty grin faded.

Victor glanced around wildly to see Yuri still cowering in the doorway. Victor felt a taste of relief as he realized Yuri wasn't crying, but the boy might as well have been. His eyes were red and shimmered strangely in the bright lighting of the kitchen. His body shook lightly as he tried to make himself as small as possible and he kept his eyes trained on the ground.

"Yu… I…" Victor had no idea what had come over him. and he had no idea how to fix it.

"I should go." Yuri said softly, beginning to back away from the kitchen. Victor began to get up and protest, but Yuri yelped at the movement and Yurio hissed at him, so he stayed where he was.

"No, please…. I don't…. I just…"

"I know you didn't mean it." Yuri said flatly. Despite the tone, Victor couldn't help but feel warm relief flood his chest. "But- but sometimes I-I think you k-keep things, like… like your opinions of people, quiet an' e-eventually those opinions come rushing out all at once an' you say a bit more than you actually believe, or you say it a bit harsher than intended." Victor's eyes widened at the misunderstanding.

"What!? No, no I didn't mean—"

"Victor, you don't have to be nice about it. I get it." Yuri smiled sadly. "I think I should go." He said with a wavering voice. He spun around, and speed walked down the hall into the living room while Victor struggled to throw Yurio off of him.

"Victor, you stay here before you screw anything else up, you useless lump of сыр." Yurio grumbled like someone who wore the weight of the world. He scrambled up and raced down the hall to find Yuri, while Victor lay flat on his back, listening to the sounds of a hysterical voice, a deeper and calmer voice and the slam of a door.

"Did he just call me a useless lump of cheese?" Victor wondered aloud.

 **AN:**

 **I bet none of you saw that coming. The most predictable argument starter happens here, folks. Sorry I'm not creative with coming up with disagreements, I literally can't remember the last time I got in a fight with someone. I'm too passive for that.**

 **As always, requests, suggestions, reviews and anything else is welcome. I love you all and I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter and that you have a great Thanksgiving, if you live in the states! If you don't live in the states, have a great rest of your week!**


	13. The Halfway House of Homeless Humans

**AN:**

 **I'm BAAAAAACCCKCKCKCKCKC**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **To everybody who celebrated Thanksgiving— you guys have a good one? Do anything fun? Eat so much turkey you thought you'd die? Cried when you realized how much you overate? This is not from personal experience. I had a great time, got some awesome food with my awesome family— life is good!**

 **To all those who don't celebrate Thanksgiving… yeah it doesn't make sense to me either. Yay were killing all the Native Americans, let's have some turkey. Did you know they didn't eat turkey on the first Thanksgiving? Or pie? Or stuffing? Or cranberry sauce? Americans. Get it together.**

 **Anyways, I hope you guys like this chapter. There's a crap ton of OC and "how does this fit into the plot Eb, what'chya smokin' over there, friend." Sorry in advance.**

 **Have fun!**

CH 13— The Halfway House of Homeless Humans

"You really screwed up." Yurio announced, almost disgustedly. He padded back into the living room where Victor was moping on the fluffy rug. Victor had managed to half wedge himself under the coffee table, mostly covered by a heavy blanket while lying with his face pressed into the floor. Yurio glared at Victor when the depressed coach didn't respond.

"You have to fix this." He added unhelpfully in a firm do-as-I-say way. He stood for a few more seconds as Victor still lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. And then Yurio walk away. A few seconds later, Yurio came back and stood by Victor's head, dangling a slice of pizza over his friend's face

"So, what are you gonna do?" Yurio asked, taking a bite of the slice in his other hand. Victor accepted his slice and began eating it, not bothering to sit up.

"I have no idea." He muttered around a mouthful of greasy, cheesy goodness and thick, soft crust. But it wasn't the gooey, cheesy, softness that he expected. For some reason, for the first time ever, pizza tasted gross. Heavy and fatty and nasty. It made him want to spit it out, throw up and chug five gallons of water. "Did you not catch up to him?" Victor asked, realizing that Yuri wasn't in the room and remembering that Yurio had gone chasing after him.

"No. With all the time he's been at hospital, you'd think his stamina would be way down. But no, he still runs like the Devil is after him."

"I didn't mean to." Victor said unnecessarily. Yurio sighed and sank down onto the floor beside his old friend.

"I know. You can't help that you're an idiot." Victor didn't rise to the bait, but rolled over a bit, just far enough to see Yurio's face.

"Do you think…." Victor trailed off, eyes casting downward with sudden insecurity. He almost rolled back onto his stomach, but a hand lurched out to grab his shoulder. He glanced back at Yurio.

"He'll forgive you. He always does, always will."

"No, old Yuri always did, but this Yuri…."

"He's not that different, you know. Just talk to him. Tell him how you're really just scared crap-less." Yurio advised around a mouth full of pizza. He picked up the remote and began flipping through channels, oily fingers smearing pizza grease all over the object he held. "And what's the worst that could happen? He can't forgive you right now? Now biggie, he'll come around." Victor was appalled with how relaxed Yurio was being. Lately Yurio and Yuri had been getting much closer, Yurio going as far as trying to protect Yuri's innocence from "bad words," as Yurio called them. But when it came to actual dangers, like emotionally desructive, backstabbing coaches, Yurio was fine. Yurio chatted and ate pizza while watching reality TV next to the man who broke Yuri's heart!

"He won't forgive me." Victor interrupted his own mental ramblings. "I just know it. I said some awful things and I just—"

"And you don't think I've said awful things? You don't think Mari has ever said awful things— jeezus, all his parents do anymore is say awful things, and he forgives them and me the second we look slightly apologetic!" Yurio pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing out heavily in frustration.

"Look. I know you're all emotionally stunted because of Mommy-dearest, but come on, man. Get a grip. That kid is the most understanding, accepting, _loving_ human being either of us know. How can he not forgive you? How?" Victor was silent for a moment.

"Should I go after him?" Victor asked, sounding uncharacteristically small and young.

"I don't know. Should we give him space?"

"Last time we gave him space…"

"He fell off a cliff. Right." Yurio sighed, wondering why he had to have such complicated friends. "You're both going to be the death of me."

"Sorry."

"No, you're not. Let's go find your boyfriend." Yurio stood up, shoving the rest of his pizza in his mouth, taco style.

"Not my boyfriend."

"He will be soon enough. Now get up, I don't want to have to drag you." Yurio said sharply. Victor groaned and pulled himself to his feet, staggering slightly while clutching his head. "Dude are you drunk?"

"What? No! If I'm getting drunk, I want the good stuff. And you have to go to Russia for that." Victor muttered, realizing he should probably shut up. Yurio was grinning at him in half amazement.

"Victor without his Yuri is funny." He said. Victor glared and stormed over to the front door, ignoring Yurio's cackles. He slipped a long black coat on and threw a spare puffy parka vest from the coat rack at Yurio, who caught the coat with his face.

"Ow, hey! That zipper hit my face, could've made me go blind!" Yurio growled overdramatically. Victor rolled his eyes, glancing at his now empty coat rack.

"Does Yuri have a coat?" Victor asked distractedly. Yurio glanced up at him in confusion as he struggled with his zipper.

"Uh, I don't think so— проклятый zipper!" Yurio shouted, his short temper losing the battle of the tricky zipper. Victor, who had tugged the door open and was standing in the hallway holding it open for Yurio, began to snigger behind his hand.

"Come here and I'll help you." he promised, pocketing his room key and pulling off the leather gloves he had just put on. Yurio grumbled out a "thanks" with childish petulance as he shuffled into the hallway. Victor kneeled in front of him and began working the zipper just as the room door next to Victor's opened.

Out popped a tall, older, gentlemanly looking man. He held a sleek black cane in one hand and was situating the collar of his sharp looking jacket with the other.

"Ah, father and son going out, are we? You two have a wonderful evening." The man said kindly with a gentle smile. The man nodded a goodnight and started down the hallway in a light, almost dancing gait.

Victor and Yurio met each other's eyes with a bit of confusion and bit of mortification.

"He thought I was your father!" Victor exclaimed. "Just how old do I look!" he fumbled in his pockets to pull out a mini mirror and began pushing at his face in search of wrinkles. "I should stop smiling and drinking through straws, that'll stop the wrinkles, right? Right?!"

"He thought I was related to you by blood." Yurio gagged, looking a bit green. "You're only like seven years older than me or something!" Meanwhile the older man who was walking down the hall began whistling a cheery toon and nodded, miming lifting a hat from his head to a young lady who giggled in response. Yurio and Victor watched him go with slight disgust.

"Let's go find Yuri." Yurio said suddenly, speed-walking down the hall.

"Ah, yep— yeah, let's." Victor muttered nervously.

* * *

Yuri was running. At night. In the dark. And the freezing cold. With only a sweater and a pair of thin jeans to keep out the cold.

Not his best decision.

He was racing down the sidewalk along a bridge over still water, sneakers slapping against the pavement. The only other sounds were the purring engines of cars zipping by, their lights streaking across Yuri's vision. Streetlamps popped on, suddenly drowning out the bright, pure starlight. The only thing beaming in the sky anymore was the moon, which looked significantly duller in comparison to the LED streetlighting. And Yuri ran.

He was chased by the words sharper than any knife. He was chased by shadows that didn't belong to him. He was chased by fears he never knew he had. He was chased by insecurity that ran deeper than the ocean. And he chased the already set sun, too late to reach the golden streams. And he chased the stars that faded away like he feared his own worth would.

And he ran away from who he thought would never chase him off.

Yuri skidded to a halt and stood still on the sidewalk in front of an alleyway. He could smell the bitter, rancid garbage from the big stained bin that was situated between two tall buildings. It was raining.

Brilliant.

The dark asphalt was shining in the streetlights and the car lights and the store lights…

Yuri stepped into the alleyway, away from the cars' bright lights and staring drivers who wondered why this underdressed kid was standing in the pouring rain.

The alleyway was surprisingly clean. The garbage bin was securely shut and locked, there were no dead animals or litter strewn across the ground and it looked like the place was regularly cleaned. And that's why Yuri had no problem sinking to the ground on the side of the garbage bin that blocked the road and the world from view. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them, choking back the tears that burned and blurred.

Why were Victor's words affecting him so badly? They were just stupid words. Stupid words that hurt, but just stupid words nonetheless.

This is great. Yuri was hiding in an alley next to a garbage bin that smelled like…. fish. And death. And he was whining and complaining and pitying himself. In the rain. Alone. This was basically a bad music video to an angsty song about teenage heartbreak.

What was he doing? It seemed like not too long ago, everything was fine. He was fine, Victor was fine— the world was fine. He had some issues, sure. But they were manageable, but this…

This isn't manageable. Yuri could handle feelings and cliffs and hospitals. He could handle loss and suffering and darkness. He could not, however, handle Victor.

Victor and his self-righteous "I'm perfect, why would I want anyone like _you_?" Victor and his backstabbing "he didn't do it for attention, oh wait, he did." Victor and his "how in the world could you ever think that I'd love _you_?"

Freaking Victor and his stupid pretty smiles and his stupid shiny eyes and his stupid soft hair. Stupid Victor and his stupid gracefulness and his stupid charisma and his stupid adorableness. Stupid freaking stupid Victor and his obnoxious, idiotic, stupid, dumb hugs. Frick.

Yuri had escaped misery and was now pretty well off into the realm of being ticked off.

What was Victor's problem? Did he have a problem with people with scars? Did he have a problem with people who weren't perfect? Did he have a problem with people who weren't beautiful? Did he have a problem with people who weren't just like him?

"Well, sorry for not being as perfect and flawless as the gift to humanity called Victor." Yuri muttered bitterly, glaring at the brick wall ahead of him. Stupid Victor. Causing all these _feelings_.

These frustrating feelings of wanting to be accepted and to be good enough. To be talented and attractive enough for Victor. Didn't everyone want to be enough for somebody? It was human nature.

And that's what enraged Yuri the most. The fact that, despite being yelled at and pushed aside, Yuri still wanted to please. It wasn't fair. It was like his pleasure was also his poison. Victor was his poison.

Well, what now? Yuri listened to the rain, which made melodious sounds as it hit the metal garbage bin, and pattered like footsteps on the roof of the buildings Yuri was crouched between. He glanced up, rain dotting the lenses of his glasses and drenching his hair and clothes until they stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Yuri let out a small shiver as his eyes followed the rain across the sky. A clothing line was stretched between the windows of what looked like the third floor of the building. He wondered if there was someone living up there. There must be, the clothes looked clean and fairly wrinkle free. Sweatpants, sweaters and brightly patterned socks dangled limply in the slowly growing wind. In spite of himself, Yuri felt bad for the owner of the clothes. They went through all that work to clean their clothes and string them to dry, only for them to be rained on.

It felt like a metaphor for life.

Yuri folded his arms over his knees, hugging them closer to his chest. He sighed and buried his face in his arms, the slight chill from the cooling air running up his spine. God, he just had to run away when it was a freaking arctic tundra outside, didn't he?

"Oh my— are you kiddin' me!?" an angry, gravelly voice bit out. "They were almost dry! Holy— hey! Hey, you! Kid! Down there humming "Boulevard of Broken Dreams!" Get yo angsty butt up here and help me with this!"

Yuri's head jerked up to follow the voice. Sure enough, leaning out the third story window, there was a person with messy, curly hair waving their arms around to get Yuri's attention.

"Wha… me?" Yuri asked uncertainly, staggering to his feet.

"Unless you see some other idjit hangin' out in an alleyway in the middle of a rainstorm." The person ducked back into the room for a second only to pop back out again, this time holding a colourful clothes basket. "Catch!" the person shouted. Of course, Yuri didn't catch. Yuri ducked and dove out of the way as the basket crashed onto the ground. He quickly snatched the object before it started willing with rainwater.

"I'll man the pulley, you grab the clothes. Use the fire escape behind you," the person pointed to the building Yuri had been crouched close to by the garbage can. He glanced up to see a long line of metal stairs reaching the top of the building.

"Huh. Didn't notice that before." Yuri muttered distractedly to himself. He noticed that the bottom part of the fire escape didn't reach the ground. A good six feet was missing. "Um…"

"Drag the dumpster over. You can climb 'er to reach the stairs." The person called, still fiddling with the ropes. Yuri let out a breath and shook his head. Might as well make himself useful, if he was going to bum around crying in someone's alleyway. Yuri set the basket on top of the garbage bin, using both hands and his shoulder to nudge the heavy object closer to the stairs. He eyed the monstrous thing up and down, wondering how the heck to mount it.

"Use the stickie-outies on the side, you know wha' I'm sayin'?" Yuri briefly wondered if this person was American. Their suntanned skin, wild hair and slang vocabulary was hint enough. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Yuri began searching the garbage bin for "stickie-outies." He found odd knobs that looked like they had been sloppily welded to the side of the bin. He set a foot up on the knob that resembled a door knob, and tested his weight against it. When the knob didn't pop off, he used the knob as a stepping stone and threw his other leg over to rest on the top of the bin. In an awkward split, Yuri frantically bear hugged the bin to keep from sliding off.

"Roll over!" the person in the window shouted, cupping their small hands around their mouth. "Like, jerk to the side a little!" they added, miming a full body jerk that sent the person slamming into the window frame. "Christ!" the person yelped, disappearing from view. Yuri blinked, slightly concerned about his new and eccentric… friend. Having not been lead wrong by his new friend yet, Yuri did as he was told and rolled over, throwing his body sideways. Sure enough, his whole body made it onto the top of the garbage bin in one piece.

"That took way more effort than it should have." Yuri groaned, getting on his hands and knees where he rested a moment, breathing heavily.

"You did great, for your first time. At least you got on it, I fell off the first few times." The person was back in the window. Yuri scooped up the basket, tucked it under his arm and began climbing the fire escape with one hand.

"You know, it's kind of weird to be going up something that's called an escape."

"What? Fire escapes are the best way in a building. You don't gotta worry about people following you, and only people like you are gonna be usin' 'em." Yuri shook his head, grinning at the answer.

"Ugh, I made it." Yuri groaned, stretching his back and relishing in the release from the popping joint. "Oh, wow." He breathed. Standing at the top of the fire escape, Yuri could see forever. The stars were silvery and glittered like diamonds against a dark sky that seemed to go on forever. He could see the lights from the city glowing in the background like magic. The rain caught in the lights and looked like jewels falling from the heavens. It was beautiful.

"Pretty neat, huh?" Yuri glanced back at his new friend. The person was completely impossible to gender. Curly hair, bright almond eyes, dark tanned skin and a baggy tank top that looked like a water color sunset. Feminine, but also slightly masculine with toned arms. Ah. Androgynous. One of the world's most beautiful and confusing as eff creations.

"It's… breathtaking." He whispered, grinning widely.

"So, you gonna help me, or what?"

"Oh, yeah— what do I do?"

"I'm going to use the pulley to move the line, you grab the clothes when the get to you, drop 'em in the basket and when we're done, bring 'em upstairs and have some tea with me. I got the good stuff, real herbs from local farms and stuff. You'll love it, Asians love tea." Yuri laughed softly at the stereotype, finding it more humorous than offending. The person began pulling the string between what looked like two wheels from a large toy car. The whole line began to shift, the clothes jerkily twitching across the line. Yuri reached out and accepted the first drenched article of clothing, a large white sweater with angel wings sketched to the back in splashy colours.

"You've got nice taste." Yuri admitted, grinning as he placed the sweater in the basket.

"Right? I love. Sweaters. Oh my God. Sweaters. And those t-shirts with sarcastic stuff on them, especially the ones that insult people who are too stupid to understand the insults." Yuri had to laugh at this.

"You remind me of my friend, Yurio. He enjoys sarcasms and insults too."

"You should bring him around some time, it's be great to finally meet someone in this place who gets sarcasm and understands insults. Everybody in Japan is so nice and patient, it's almost sickening." The person wrinkled their nose. "It's cute, too, like the other day, I saw some skater boy— you know, messy and scruffy in the cute way— and he was walking up to this little kid. I was like "oh no, he's going to kidnap that kid or steal from him or something" but this guy— _this hard core lookin', tattoo wearin', guy_ — freaking reaches in his pocket, pulls out a _lollipop_ and gives it to the kid. Then the kid freaking pulls a picture he drew out of his pocket and hands it to the guy like, "thanks for the candy stranger. Here, _have my art_!" Yuri had to laugh at his new friend, who was waving their arms around animatedly, enthusiastically shouting across the alleyway. "Where I come from, we don't do that!"

"Where are you from?" Yuri asked, honestly curious.

"Boston. Massachusetts, it's in New England which is like if Britain and America had a baby."

"America? I guessed as much." Yuri applauded his accurate guessing skills.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yuri sensed the slight bristling in his friend's tone.

"Oh, goodness! I didn't mean anything bad about it, I can just tell by your features, your accent and what words you use that you aren't really from around here!" Yuri waved his hands around in a frantic apology, unsure of how to fix things. "I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry!"

"Be chill, dude, it's all good! I just thought you were one of those people who thought all Americans are stupid and lazy and fat and loud and blah, blah, blah." The person laughed, clearly trying to soothe Yuri's franticness.

"Well, you _are_ loud." Yuri said slyly.

"You would've told me that sooner if it really bothered you."

"True."

Yuri continued to grab and stack, grab and stack, until the last piece of clothing, a single neon sock, was stacked in the basket. Then he began climbing down from the staircase, carefully but quickly. it was freezing out and he was soaked to the bone with frigid rain.

"Come on up, what kinda tea you like?"

"Uh…."

"Cool, I'll surprise you!" the person disappeared from the window and Yuri hopped down from the last step, splashing into a puddle that hadn't been there when he first hiked the fire escape.

"Oops." He muttered, feeling the icy coldness of the water on his numbing flesh. He shrugged and bustled out of the alleyway. Fast moving cars splashed water against Yuri's already soaked body and he practically trembled with cold. He stomped up the crumbling stone steps to warm his legs and held the basket against his hip with one hand as his other hand fumbled numbly with the bulky doorknob. The ancient wooden door creaked open and he stepped in, greeted by lukewarm air and the aroma of cookies baking and, for some reason, the smell of flowers and plants. The light was dim and cheery, and the wallpaper was yellow with small orange flowers dotting in narrow columns. Yuri heard thudding footsteps and glanced to the left, seeing a flight of stairs with picture frames spread along the entire wall of the stairs. Pictures of smiling kids, couples, friends. Pictures of trees, parties, buildings, and random objects. Pictures of sunsets or sunrises and oceans and forests. It was like a scrapbook on a wall. Then he saw little bare feet through the rungs of the banister on the stairs.

"Ah, Christ! You're soaked through, man!" it was his friend from the window. Standing in bare feet, tank top replaced with an oversized sweatshirt that said "I'm not on drugs, I swear. I'm just weird okay." For some reason, Yuri felt that this was a fitting choice in clothing.

"Well, don't just stand there— come on up 'fore you freeze to death, Pumpkin!" the person twirled around and started pounding up the stairs. Yuri just shook his head and followed. The stairs were old, aging wood. Some steps had carpet on them, others had ancient cloth strewn on them and others were bare. There were metal buckets, plastic containers and even potted plants standing in the oddest places, clearly catching water from the leaky roof.

"Pardon the mess. I'd say we just moved in, but I've been using that excuse for ten years now. Watch the top step!" Yuri tripped over the top step. "Sorry about that, that step's uneven because Squirt…. did something. I don't think we ever figured out what he actually did."

"Um, excuse me?" Yuri spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"What's your name?"

"Ah, I'm Alex, so, like, Arekkusu in Japanese. People call me Kusu. I'm pretty sure that means either "laugh" or "sarcastic" or something. Either way, I think it suits me." Kusu shrugged.

"Alex… a boy name, no?"

"Ah, yeah. I'm androgynous though." Ah, yes. Yuri had forgotten about that. "Feel free to call me whatever you feel. He, she, it— whatever." Alex gestured for Yuri to fallow…. Him? Yuri was very uncomfortable with the freedom to choose a stranger's pronouns. He decided to use them interchangeably and see how that went.

"Kusu, did you find another one?" a deep voice asked softly. Yuri yelped, not having heard the man enter the room. Turning around, he saw a tall boy with Hispanic features and holy jeans. His eyes were dark chocolate with the mullet to match, and he had a white bandage wrapped around the majority of his forearm.

"Nah, this is just the guy who helped me get my laundry down. I was going to get him some tea and dry clothes."

"I told you it was going to rain." The man grinned with good humour and turned to Yuri "Nice to meet you, I'm Thiago which is close to Tiago, so that's what most people call me here."

"Horse?" Yuri asked, cocking his head in confusion as he recalled the meaning of the word.

"Ethnic names don't translate well. It was even weirder in America. People couldn't pronounce it so they either literally called me "Horse" or "Diego." Yuri snorted.

"Are we introducing Tiago to new people again?" a voice from the other end of the hall asked. Yuri looked up to see a girl in overalls with a ratty t shirt shuffling towards them in big boots. She had the end of a long braid twirled around her fingers and was fiddling with a hunk of odds and ends of metal and gears with her other hand.

"That's Kotori. Don't pay attention to her, she's mean. Especially when her little projects don't work ou— ow! Don't hit me with that, it's probably got tetanus or something!" Tiago complained as Kotori brought holy vengeance by beating Tiago with her metal… thing.

"I'm Yuri, nice to meet you both." Yuri said softly. "Do you both live here or…?" Way to go, Yuri. Drop those offensive, personal questions on some strangers that could totally be psycho killers. Brilliant.

"Yeah, there's a couple of us." Kotori answered cryptically, not looking up from her doodad.

"Come on, Yuri, my room's on the end." Kusu said, dragging Yuri by the clothes basket. "We need some warm dry clothes for you before you get sick. Thanks for the help, by the way." Kusu said, her bare feet scuffing against the occasional area rug of piece of cloth was haphazardly strewn across the floor in seemingly no pattern. Kusu jumped or stepped over to cloth or rugs, as if he was playing the famous childhood game where the floor is lava.

"Oh, no problem." Yuri mumbled a little belatedly stumbling behind her. They walked past a lot of bedrooms, the hall was deceptively long. Some of the bedroom doors along the hall were wide open and Yuri could see other young people relaxing in their bedrooms. Some of the doors were closed and music or laughter was heard through the cracks. Yuri found himself enjoying how every door was different. Some were made of different types of wood, others were covered in paintings or posters and some had bright lights strewn across the door like it was a Christmas tree.

"You like this place, huh?" Kusu asked, noticing Yuri's awe-filled face as he craned his neck to see everything he could. "We're all sort of roommates. This place used to be a halfway house, but it failed, and the place was left to crumble. We kind of… adopted it, I guess you could say." Kusu explained, shrugging as if it was an every day thing to find an abandoned building and begin living in it illegally.

"So, you don't actually own it? Legally, I mean." Yuri asked abruptly. "You're all…."

"Homeless." Kusu grinned and cocked his head. "You can say it, ya' know. It's just a word, and it's true. Ah, here we are. Welcome to my room!" Kusu gestured to a paint splattered door that was wide open to reveal a hoarder's bedroom. All kinds of knickknacks dotted mismatched shelves, piles of books and magazines that didn't fit in the overstuffed bookcases were used as tables that held clearly used tea cups and the ceiling was covered with posters and strings of candle lite lanterns. Not the safest form of lighting in a room covered in books and posters.

"Wow." Was all Yuri could say as he wondered how off the fire code charts this place was. He walked in a slow circle, staring up at the glowing lights that looked like angel beams or miniature suns. They cast light on colourful posters and sparkled against trinkets stuffed into shelves. It was beautiful.

"Yeah, I like stuff." Kusu said good-naturedly, referring to her hoarding habit. She skipped over to the large window, which had its panes opened out as if to welcome the rain in. Kusu dragged a few potted plants over to the window and heaved them up onto the sill before disappearing into what looked like a closet.

"Come here, let's get you outta those wet clothes 'fore you get the pneumonia!" she exclaimed. Yuri followed him past a vanity mirror with all kinds of photos of people sticking to it. When he reached the small closet, Yuri assaulted with clothes. They were stacked, they were hung, they were in open boxes, they were everywhere in the already cramped space.

"I like clothes. And I'm a bit of a klepto. Don't judge me." Kusu said sharply. Yuri raised his hands in surrender and continued to look around in awe. Kusu had flashlights and lanterns hanging from strings reaching from the bedroom and into the closet. Thinking for a moment, Yuri realized that none of the lighting in Kusu's room required electricity.

"Do you not have electricity? I mean, I saw lighting downstairs, but upstairs it looks like all the lighting is battery or fire powered." Yuri wondered why he kept prying into this perfect stranger's life. He was trying to get through this _without_ being shanked.

"We get electricity on the first floor 'cuz we feed off the buildin' to our left, the one you climbed on. We get second story power from the buildin' to the right, and third story gets lightin' from the buildin' behind ours. It just so happened that the buildin' behind ours is up for rent 'cuz the previous owners, a cute little cake-and-pie business, moved. So, we don't got any lightin' comin' from them at the moment." Kusu shrugged as if it was a completely normal setback to not have lighting because you're stealing it from your neighbors. Yuri wondered how many laws were being broken just by this building's inhabitants. He lost count.

"That's… amazing, so you found a way to tap into other people's electricity?" Yuri, in spite of himself, was amazed at the resourcefulness and problem-solving skills these people displayed. Yuri would die on the first day of being homeless and here these homeless people were, with lighting, heat, electronics (if the boy with the millions of video games in the next room over had anything to say about it)— they were basically living as normal citizens would.

"Yeah, don' ask me how it works, Kotori and some'a the other people who live here were the ones who did that. You'll have'ta ask them."

"Well, what do you do for food?"

"We go do work, ya' know." Kusu sounded somewhat offended.

"No, no, no! I didn't mean that, I just meant—" Kusu interrupted Yuri's frantic apologies with a soft laugh.

"I was kidding, man. Relax." He said with a bright grin. "We do work, and since we don't have'ta pay for utilities really, we have some extra money to go 'round. We send our youngers to beg in safe places and, yeah. We steal sometimes." Kusu pursed her lips and pulled a sweatshirt out from behind a few boxes and held it up to Yuri. It was a girly sort of blue and it said "sugar and spice."

"No." Yuri said. "Not happening"

"But it's such a good colour for you!" Kusu whined.

"I'd like to retain whatever masculinity I have left, thanks." Yuri said drily. Kusu huffed and turned back to her sweatshirts.

"What kind of jobs do you have?"

"Are you a reporter? Or an undercover cop or something?"

"What? No! I'm just…"

"Curious." Kusu gave him a knowing grin. "You want to know how we survive. How we got here. Why we stay here." Kusu sounded almost cynical.

"Yeah… sorry." Yuri felt guilty, like he had done something wrong. Here were victims of society fighting for life, and Yuri was questioning their every move.

"'s'okay, human nature is curious. Anyways, some of us work the streets. We sell stuff, we sing or play instruments. Others of us have actual jobs. Like at grocery stores and restaurants and stuff. It's jus' hard because most of us don't pay taxes, you know? Getting' paid under the table is safer, hence workin' the streets. We don't have a real home address 'cuz we don't exactly want to get caught living on government property, so when that question pops up on a job application… it can be tricky." Kusu held up a pink sweatshirt to Yuri, shook her head and returned to her stores of clothing.

"That… sucks."

"Yeah, it sucks. But it's life, you know? What can you do?" Kusu turned around holding a splashy, vibrant sweatshirt that said "Queen" and Yuri could only glare at her. Kusu erupted into cackling laughter as she threw it at him.

"Come on, it's cute!" she exclaimed, pulling a pair of jeans out of the closet. "I have lots of sizes, I these will fit you." she said handing the ripped jeans over to Yuri.

"I'm going to look like an idiot in this." Yuri muttered.

"Nah, you'll look great. And if you do look funny, at least I'll get a good laugh outta it." Kusu grinned pleasantly. Kusu turned around to let Yuri change in privacy. She said something about chivalry not being dead, which Yuri thought applied to men and not women, but since Kusu was androgynous… God this was complicated. Yuri wanted to strangle Kusu until she picked a gender, it was so difficult thinking in bi-gender terms.

"See, you look like a little punk or something, it works for you!"

"I'm not going to comment on that." Yuri muttered, holding his wet clothes to his chest to hide the majority of the front of the sweatshirt. "Am I free now?" Yuri felt slightly grumpy, after the high of helping a stranger and meeting new people was worn off and replaced with embarrassment of wearing women's clothing.

"Calm down. You can leave, but you have to promise to visit at least once a week."

"And bring donuts!" a voice shouted from behind Yuri. Yuri whirled around mid-heart attack to find Kotori standing in the doorway, no trinket in hand, but an odd bulge in her pocket. Her braid had hair sticking out of it, she was sweating and looked generally frazzled.

"Kotori, what are you doin' here? Don't scare my guests." Kusu complained.

"Sorry, wanted to tell you to shut it down. Cops are in the area. Cool shirt, Yuri."

"Christ, thanks." Kusu began clicking her flashlights off and blowing out her lanterns while Yuri shot a glare at Kotori for her last comment. The girl grinned impishly and whirled around, dashing down the hall. Out in the hallway, Yuri could hear shouts and pounding of feet. It sounded like a raid or something. People were shouting things like "I can't freaking find my curtains!" and "just use your rug!" and "can I use blankets instead of curtains, someone help me cover these windows!"

"What's going on?" Yuri asked uncertainly, anxiety tickling his spine chillingly.

"You know how we don't— ow— own this place, right?" Yuri gave Kusu a tight nod that wasn't seen, as Kusu was struggling to reach up and blow out the lanterns. "Well— ugh— what do you think would happen if— can't reach, oh thank you, Yuri— a bunch'a cops found some kids— go out stupid light!— livin' in an abandoned buildin' that they don't— Christ!— own? It's trespassin'— hey, catch me— which you can go to jail for if you get caught enough times."

"How many times have you been caught?" Yuri said, awkwardly lowering Kusu, who he had been boosting so she could reach the lanterns.

"None, but I don't wanna push my luck." Once all the lights were out, the room looked lost and sad. Like a picture of the aftermath of a long war. Empty, but clearly once inhabited, which was evidenced by all the artefacts and personal touches left behind, like cracked pictures or broken childrens' toys.

"Does this happen often?" Yuri whispered, unsettled by the sudden silence and darkness that spread throughout the once vibrant and bustling building.

"It used'ta happen all the time, but the cops are getting' pretty lax." Kusu said, sitting against the wall with his knees close to his chest. "This block is known for trouble and they don't want to deal with it, so they only patrol if they have to."

Yuri could see out the window as the cop car drove by, the vehicle's lights bathing the room in brightness. Kusu squeezed her hands into fists, breath accelerating. It struck Yuri as odd. You'd think that these people would be used to this kind of thing. But it looked like it was scary and stressful no matter how many times it happened. Yuri reached over and placed a hand on one of her fists. And he sat that way for a while. In a silent, dark closet of an abandoned building with a trespassing, homeless, androgynous stranger.

"Now we send someone out the back door to patrol for cops. If they don't see any for a few miles, they come back, and we send someone else. We do that three times and if no one comes back saying they saw a cop, we can turn the lights back on." Kusu explained. "We have people on lookout in other buildin's farther away from this one with walkie-talkies in case the cops do come back."

"So, should I leave…?" Yuri asked, strangely wanting out. Getting arrested for trespassing was not on his list of things to do today.

"Yeah, I don't want you mixed up in this. You can go with first patrol. They're proba'ly leaving soon. I think it's Tiago's turn today." Kusu grinned, patting Yuri's shoulder. "It was good to meet you kid. Now get out of here." Yuri nodded, standing stiffly. His heart felt oddly heavy. He wanted to take everyone who lived in the building home with him. It was sobering, heartbreaking to think that these kids were all homeless, in poverty and had to do "patrols" just to keep their home. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be.

"Hey, don't worry about us." Kusu grinned, reading Yuri's mind. "We've been doin' this for years, we know what we're doin'. We'll be okay." Yuri nodded, not convinced. He inched out of the closet, glancing around the room one last time as if to capture the image in his head, before he captured the image of Kusu grinning up at him while crouching in the closet and hugging his knees, looking like a small and lonely child.

Tearing his heart from the situation, Yuri turned on his heel and stepped lightly through the house, careful to keep his head low when passing windows and to keep his movements as silent as possible. It wasn't until he reached the bottom of the stairs when he ran into Tiago.

"Ah, leaving?" Tiago asked like a receptionist checking someone out of a hotel. Yuri nodded, feeling almost guilty for coming during a calm period for the household and leaving them behind just when things got rough. "Cool, I'll walk with you until its safe." Yuri blinked.

He couldn't believe there was a place so close to his own home where kids were homeless and were so insecure about the safety of the streets that they'd be willing to walk a stranger around until it was safe. Yuri thought Japan was a pretty safe place. Of course everyone has their no-no cities and danger towns, but one so close to Yuri's happy, safe little hot springs? Crazy.

Yuri just nodded and followed Tiago, who went through a large kitchen to a backdoor. It was a screen door with a heavy oak one to keep out unwanted guests and cold. Both doors creaked when they were pushed open. Yuri winced at the sound, frantically looking around to see if a cop had heard. He felt a warm and gentle pressure on his back.

"Don't freak out. It's all under control." Tiago grinned warmly, patting Yuri as if to calm him down. Yuri felt the irrational urge to cry. Tiago reminded him so much of Victor.

Yuri's breath caught in his throat and he coughed as quietly as he could into his fist. Tiago looked concerned but didn't say anything and held the door open for Yuri. It was still pouring, but all Tiago had on was a worn jeans jacket and his jean pants that showed more skin that cloth material. The had to have been freezing, but he was grinning. _Humming_ , even.

"Act natural." Tiago whispered out of the corner of his mouth, smile not wavering. Yuri glanced up in confusion. They were walking around the side of the building to the road. Oh. They had to act normal, so the cops wouldn't suspect they were up to anything and follow them or something. Living on the run was stressful, and Yuri had only been on the run for maybe thirty minutes so far. Yuri forced his shoulders to slump down and his gait to slow, feigning a relaxed stance and stride.

"Good. Don't panic or anything, just talk to me, okay?" Tiago gave Yuri a blinding smile.

"O-okay." Yuri whispered, stomach jolting with nerves. "Um, what should I talk about?" Yuri was painfully aware of a cop car coming up behind them.

"Breath, Yuri. It's going to be okay. They don't know anything until you start thinking they do. They'll be able to see your anxiety, and they'll assume you're doing something you shouldn't. Be calm. See? He drove right by, you're doing great." Tiago continued to give Yuri support, even throwing an arm around Yuri's shoulders to calm him down. When they finally reached the end of the road, they were standing on the bridge that led back to Victor.

Tiago stopped walking and Yuri turned to face him.

"Seriously, come by every now and then." Tiago requested. "Kusu's a little eccentric and wild sometimes, but he-she is a good person. He-she always gets attached to people to easily, which always gets him-her hurt. Don't hurt him-her."

"He-she and him-her? That's how you solved the pronoun problem?" Yuri asked.

"Well, he-she said it doesn't matter what pronouns we use, right? So why not use them both?" Tiago grinned. "Anyways, come back, okay? Or we can meet in a park or a coffee shoppe or something if you aren't comfortable being in a building with a bunch of trespassing homeless kids." Yuri giggled.

"Okay, I'll definitely come back. I like you guys, you really helped me out." Yuri's smile vanished as he remembered the reason he left in the first place.

"Hey, can I ask something that's probably gong to be personal?" Tiago requested. Yuri nodded hesitantly, predicting where the conversation was going and not liking it one bit. "Why did you come to our block? Are you running from someone? Are you okay?" Tiago looked progressively concerned. Yuri placed a hand on the taller man's chest.

"No, no. I got in a stupid fight with my friend, that's all. I was too sensitive to something he said, and I blew up. Knowing him, he's probably waiting up for me as we speak. I should really get back to him."

"Well, if you ever need a place to stay, if he ever hurts you again… we got your back, Yuri." The way Tiago said it made it sound like a promise.

"Thank you." Yuri said seriously. "Thank you." Tiago just grinned, ruffled Yuri's hair and jogged back down the road, leaving Yuri alone in the rain. Alone and in the rain, but feeling much more positive about things.

Except for the fact that he never got his tea.

 **AN:**

 **Sorry for all the OC's. I got a little distracted. And carried away.**

 **Also, sorry if pronouns confused you. I have a friend who uses masculine/feminine pronouns for herself interchangeably and I wanted to have a character like that for some reason. It's hella confusing sometimes, but I hope it was clear enough for everybody.**

 **Lessons With Eb: so in Japan, they don't have names for most of their streets. They label the space between streets (housing districts, shopping strips, etc) as blocks. So, you would ask what block something is in, instead of what street it's on. This makes more sense than street names to me because there are so many streets and so many names that I get confused. If all I have to do is memorize a couple block numbers and what's within that block, I'll get around just fine! Anyways, that's why the characters were saying stuff about their "block" instead of their "street" in case anyone noticed. If you didn't, don't feel bad. I never notice that stuff either.**


	14. Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me

**AN:**

 **Some of you have asked for the Vikturi**

 **So…. YOU'RE GONNA GET THE VICTURI! Get them tissues ready and be prepared to either squeal or bawl or both. Because, as per usual, this can't end happily, now can it? This is me we're talking about, people.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **I don't know about the rest of you, but I've got exams this upcoming week, so send me all the good mojo or luck or prayers or whatever magic voodoo you believe in, and I'll send some back, capiche?**

 **Lessons With Eb: Capiche is Italian slang from the 40s after the word "Capisci" which is "do you understand." I bet you knew the word but couldn't spell it, or give its history lesson— now you can! Congrats, you know useless information. Welcome to my life.**

 **On with the sobfest!**

Ch 13— Second Time, Shame On Me

It was almost one in the morning. One. In the freaking. Morning. Real friendship is when you hunt down your best friend in the dead of night (morning?). Victor was really cold. And tired. And freaked out.

He had sent Yurio home hours ago, not trusting his young friend's safety on the streets at night. Yurio, as expected, threw a fit. He complained that Victor was treating him like a child. He complained that, while upsetting Yuri was Victor's mistake, Yuri was still Yurio's "responsibility."

Yeah.

He said " _responsibility._ " As if Yuri was his child or lost pet.

"I want to help!" Yurio said angrily. "You can't just send me away like I'm a princess that needs to be locked in a tower!" Victor pinched the bridge of his nose. God, why did he hang out with this kid again?

Господи, помилуй.

"Yurio, I do not have time for your "poor little misunderstood teenager" crap right now. And besides, it's not safe out here and I don't want to have to worry about you—"

"You think I can't handle myself, is that it? You think "poor little Yurio, he's just a kid. He needs someone to protect him" That's stupid!" Yurio shouted, an angry snarl across his face. "The person you're supposed to protect is out there kidnapped or attacked or something because you're an idiot! So, thank God I don't actually need your _protection_!"

 _Иисус ебаный Христос_

"Yurio— look, this is ridiculous. Just go home, okay? It's pointless for two people to be looking in the same places for one person— and I can't exactly split up with you, now can I?" Yurio countered and the two argued back and forth for a while, but Yurio eventually caved and stormed away. With Yurio at home and hopefully sleeping, Victor continued to roam the virtually empty streets, still searching for Yuri.

He had tried calling Yuri, but found that his calls were going to voicemail. Knowing Yuri, his phone was probably lost or still at the apartment. And while Victor tried to comfort himself with the fact that Yuri almost never had his phone with him, and probably was safe and just lost his phone…

Victor was still panicking. His face felt flushed and really warm, like he had a fever. His head hurt— his brain hurt as he wracked it for all the possible places that Yuri could be. His body was aching and sore, tense with stress and exhausted from hours of search. Who knew their little town could be so big?

But anywhere is big with it's cold, dark and you're looking for someone you care about.

The situation was painfully similar to the cliff incident. Victor had been frantically searching for Yuri with no way to contact him. It had been cold and dark, Victor had been exhausted and stressed. And when he finally found Yuri… when he finally found him, the kid was close to dead.

An icy fear gripped Victor's heart. He felt the irrational desire to sob beginning to well up painfully in his chest.

What if that happened again? What if it was happening all over again? What if Yuri was in danger, what if he was hurt? Maybe he was near dead now, having been run over or kidnapped or assaulted—

Oh, God.

"Breath, stupid, breath." Victor muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists. His lungs burned as he took in gasp of frigid air. It was as if he had been holding his breath for years. Now he felt even worse.

His head ached like it was beaten with a hammer. His body was weary like he had run a million miles, and he felt such a painful, startling feeling of loss that he didn't even know what to do with himself. It was like something was missing. Like something that was a part of him, something that had never been missing before was suddenly taken. And he had no idea what to do about it.

He tried to shake it off, blame it on nerves, claim that his imagination was just spinning out of control, that he was overreacting. He tried to convince himself that he was just tired, that he was just a little overstressed, that something he ate was causing indigestion— anything other than what he knew it was.

Victor practically skidded to a halt. His light jog had progressed into a sprint as quicksilver thoughts whizzed through his mind like fruit flies at a farmer's market, but for some reason he seemed to have lost all energy in one moment. He felt like he ran into a wall. That was the moment he realized what he was feeling. And why he was feeling it. And how there was no way to get rid of it now that he was feeling it.

God, he hated feelings. They were so complicated and confusing. They weren't necessarily unwanted, but they were certainly inconvenient. And annoying. And distracting. And impeding Victor's ability to run— what kind of feeling has that power? That it stops you and sucks all the energy and will from your body?

Victor knew what it was.

It was that dreaded "L" word, and all the emotions that come with it, and all the emotions that come with the idea of losing that "L" word.

Despair and acute hopelessness. Forlornness and sadness. Depression and hurt. Misery and loss. Pain and dejection. Heavy hearted downcast and dispirited lowness.

All because of the warm fondness and passionate tenderness. The intimate affection felt towards the dearly delightful. The adoring, yearning, worshiping, _craving_ —

Victor wanted to slap himself.

"Get it together, Vitya." He muttered to himself, dragging cold hands down his weary face. What was he going to do?

Not about the feelings. About the Yuri-is-missing thing. Feelings can come later. there's no time for feelings right now.

The problem was that he'd looked everywhere. He looked at the hot springs, and the rink, and Yuri's favourite restaurant. He even did a quick scope through the woods where Yuri's accident happened. He checked the park, and the sports store where they both got their skates and other sports equipment like jogging pants and sweatshirts. He checked in with their friends, and he checked the library and the strip malls, on the off chance that Yuri tried to go somewhere that Victor would never to think to look.

That was the biggest problem. Yuri knew Victor so well, that he knew exactly where to hide that Victor wouldn't find him. That was the funny thing about Yuri. He was much more observant and intelligent than most people thought he was. Just looking at him, he seemed kind of ditzy and a little naïve. It was one of the reason that Victor lov— liked Yuri so much. He was a mystery, there was always something new to learn about him. Though, he was still a little ditzy and oblivious on occasion.

Victor sighed. This was useless. This running around in circles, checking the same places over and over again. He had to think. Where had he not checked? Where would Yuri not think he'd ever go?

The graveyard, for one. But why would Yuri go there? He didn't check the local schools, but it didn't make sense for Yuri to go there, either. The schools were definitely closed, and Yuri wouldn't risk getting arrested for trespassing just to get away from Victor…

Right?

Not the time for Feelings! No, Feelings! Bad, Feelings! Think, think, think… he hadn't checked every block of the town, maybe he should do that?

But that would take at least three more hours on foot.

How much did he want to find Yuri?

A lot, but going on foot for even more hours wasn't going to be productive.

It was exhausting. He was sore and tired and just wanted to bring Yuri home, so they could both go to sleep.

Not together of course! Like, separately go to bed in separate beds, in separate rooms! Separately!

Why was he blushing? Victor was freaking blushing, why in the world was he blushing?

"I'm going crazy. Yep, that's what it is. I'm insane." Victor muttered to himself, vaguely recalling the phrase "talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity." Though he remembered hearing somewhere else that talking to yourself was the "sign of greater intelligence."

"Focus, Victor, focus!" he commanded of himself. He shook his head, silvery hair glinting in the pale moonlight. His breath crystalized in the air like steam.

It was really cold. Victor was really cold. Yuri always got colder quicker than Victor, he was probably freezing by now.

О, Боже.

Yuri didn't bring a coat. He must be _literally_ freezing by now. Victor started running.

* * *

Yuri was freaking cold.

Like…. _really_ freaking cold.

He had a sweatshirt, which was great, but it was thin. It was one of those "fashion before function" sweatshirts. Also, his jeans had more holes in them than actual pieces of fabric and he was carrying wet clothing. His teeth chattered, and his bones rattled with chill. What he wouldn't give for a heated blanket or a thick, fluffy jacket.

"God, I picked the best night to do this, didn't I?" Yuri grumbled to himself, ashamed and embarrassed of his childish escape earlier. What kind of grown adult runs away when someone hurts his feelings? Real mature, Yuri. Real mature.

Yuri shook his head at his self-deprecating, sarcastic chastising. Complaining and whining and regretting would get him nowhere. What he needed to do was keep every part of him moving as much as possible and in the direction of Victor's apartment. Also, he should really call his parents.

They were probably too busy yelling at each other to notice if he called or not anyways. Yuri glanced at his watch, curious as to how long he had been out. Well. Maybe they'd be too busy sleeping because it was just past one in the morning, after all.

Yuri felt his heart drop into his stomach and his skin heat up as anxiety wacked him with a two-by-four. Dear God, he had run off for _hours_.

 _Hours_.

"Victor must be throwing a fit!" Yuri exclaimed. "God, I'm so _stupid_!" Yuri broke into a sprint, cold air biting his face and rushing against his exposed skin through the holy jeans— he was never letting that go. He didn't understand why jeans with more holes than a sponge was so attractive— no, he understood why they were attractive.

Victor wore holy jeans a lot.

Focus, focus, focus, Yuri chanted as his mind railed off track.

Yuri swiveled his head around dangerously fast, trying to take in everything he saw. He had to find Victor. The farther he got from the block where Kusu lived, the less people were out and about, the less cars were driving around, the less barking dogs and sirens there were. But the more lit streetlamps there were, and the more benches and parks there were.

Yuri raced down the empty sidewalks, willing his legs to go faster. Ever since he started physical therapy, running felt like an instinct. It was like there was something in him that nagged him to run all the time. It was like he just couldn't go fast enough. The wind in his hair, his body speeding like a rocket, adrenaline like liquid fire in his veins. It was addicting.

"Come on, idiot, focus!" Yuri scolded himself, returning his full attention into searching for his coach. Geez, he had to be around here somewhere. Yuri wondered if Victor was hiding from him. Victor, despite how he acted, hated confrontation. He addressed things when needed but, if it were up to him, he'd rather leave it behind and move on. This made Yuri's flying sprint slow to a stop. His arms, which had been pumping at his sides like they might propel him faster, had dropped down to his sides limply.

What if Victor wasn't even looking for him? What if he had put everything behind him? It would make sense. After all, Yuri up and left, making it clear he didn't want to be followed. But Victor, if nothing else, was his coach. Victor needed his student in order to be a coach. Then again, he could have any student in the world. Who wouldn't want Victor as a coach? Victor was elite. He was magic. He was a god on skates. A god of the skating world. Everyone looked up to him, everyone wanted to be him.

Yuri was lucky that Victor even glanced his way, let alone agreed to coach him or even speak to him. Yuri brought his gaze up from where it had glued itself to the floor and caught something moving in the corner of his eye.

"Is that…?" Yuri whispered to himself. He saw a tall figure in a long dark coat running down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. The figure was making quite the distance and there's was something glistening on his head….

Holy crap that's silver hair.

Holly crap that's Victor.

Holy crap.

Crap.

Yuri's brain short circuited, over-heated, malfunctioned— whatever the word was, Yuri's stupid brain did that. And with that meltdown whatever-it-was, an image popped into his mind. It was like an old movie, faded on the edges and glimmering. Close, but too far away at the same time.

It was Victor. A memory of Victor running. And of Yuri running. They were running to each other, but they were running side by side. No wait, there was a glass wall between them. Why was there glass between them? The glass disappeared, sliding to the side— wait, it was a sliding door. They were in a building now and—

Wow, dramatic embrace. Memory Yuri had practically jumped on Memory Victor.

" _I was thinking about what I could do as your coach from now on."_

" _Me too. Please be my coach until I retire."_

" _It's almost like a marriage proposal."_

A ring. Yuri glanced down at his hand. He was supposed to have a ring. What? A ring? Where the heck would he get a ring— why would he wear a ring?

A gold ring. Yuri nodded to himself confidently. Yes, he was definitely supposed to have a gold ring. A thin, gold band. Like a wedding ring. The words "marriage proposal" swum in Yuri's mind.

" _Let's win gold…."_

" _We need rings…._

" _For luck…."_

"Oh, my God." Yuri gasped, memories flooded his mind. Images and moments and objects of importance.

 _A suggestive song, a black and silver outfit, the scraping of skates._

 _A silver medal, his hand being kissed, a promise for better in the future._

 _Victor waving and grinning, standing next to a remarkably less grumpy Yurio._

 _Yuri watched tear drops that weren't his own fall onto the carpet of the hotel room._

"Oh, my God."

 _Rings glinting in the bright light of a store window._

 _Twin rings glinting on the joined hands._

"Oh, my God." Yuri breathed again, momentarily wondering if he was married. "Ah, right. It was a good luck thing." Heart attack paused, thank God. His brain freaking _hurt_. With all the memories pounding into his skull, being pinched from random dusty corners of his mind— it was unlike any other pain he had felt before. Yuri let out a sharp cry as the pain deep in his cranium. He felt his knees give way, but his body never hit the floor before being caught by something warm and solid.

Yuri glanced up to see sharp blue eyes staring into his own.

* * *

Victor was about to give up hope. He felt dead. Like a walking corpse. Rid of all feeling and emotion. He was still running, but he couldn't feel his legs anymore. He didn't think he could do this much longer, running for hours straight at night in the freezing cold was not exactly healthy. Just as Victor's previous surge in hope was beginning to fail, Victor heard a yelp.

Thinking it was a stray dog, Victor didn't pay much attention to the sound, other than glancing apathetically in the direction of the pitiful sound. What he saw made him choke. His chest tightened and burned with relief and joy, which made his eyes sting. Then he dashed across the street without looking for oncoming traffic.

He saw Yuri staggering and clutching his head. Being as far away as he was, Victor couldn't tell much else, except for the fact that, even with the distance between them, he could tell that Yuri was shivering. Feeling the effects of the cold himself, Victor could only imagine how frigid the low temperature was to Yuri. Victor ran faster at this thought.

He made it to Yuri's side just as the boy collapsed. Victor's arms went out on instinct and wrapped about his student like a vise. He reveled in the warmth and solidness of his dearest friend's body, letting it soothe away the panic that told him he'd never find Yuri again.

"Vic…. Vic…." Yuri struggled.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm sorry— so, so sorry…." Victor whispered, hugging Yuri tightly. He felt the trembling and the cold skin through Yuri's clothing. He quickly let go and shed his coat, wrapping Yuri in it before pulling him close again.

"You came…" Yuri sounded incredulous, eyes open wide with wonder as they captivated Victor's own eyes. Those two little words made Victor's heart plummet.

"God, of course I came!" he said softly, with an air of irritation. "What made you think that I wouldn't—" Victor stopped and lowered his head, his own words from that dreaded conversation popping back into his head.

" _Why would I want someone like_ you _?"_

" _Someone who needs attention…. Falling off a cliff. Really?"_

The words didn't even sound that harsh. Separated from the situation and from Yuri's slightly off-kilter emotional stability, they were just mean words. Hurtful, sure. But they weren't destructive. It made Victor feel even worse because of just how insecure Yuri must be in order to take Victor's words so poorly as to run away and not expect to be searched for.

"I'll always come for you. Always. Always." Twin lines of warmth ran down Victor's face. Yuri reached up a trembling hand in awe. Christ. Victor was crying.

Yuri moved to brush away the sudden tears, but stopped mere inches from his coach's face, unsure of whether his touch would be accepted or not. Victor grabbed the chilled hand and rested his cheek against its palm, eyes closed in order to revel at the closeness shared with someone he thought he may have lost (for the second time. Third?).

"God, you're shaking!" Victor stopped his warm, fuzzy feelings long enough to realize just what an earthquake Yuri was becoming. "Come on, we need to get you home." Yuri grinned with relief and leaned heavily against his coach's strong shoulder.

"Are you okay, other than being half frozen to death?"

"I remembered a lot of stuff again." Yuri whispered, almost giddily.

"What?" Victor was unsure of whether this was a good or a bad thing.

"It keeps happening at the weirdest moments. Like when I'm really happy, or really…." Yuri trailed off. "Not happy." He finished awkwardly, wincing at his own word choice. "They were good memories. We were running after each other. I think we were in an airport or something like that. And I remember we had rings… I don't know where mine…" Yuri trailed off as he noticed something he had never noticed before. There was a gold band on Victor's finger. Yuri reached out hesitantly and touched the ring lightly.

"You never took yours off." Yuri realized. Victor's cheeks flushed as he shook his head tightly. "Ow! Oh, _God_ —" Yuri suddenly clutched at his head, knees buckling again. Victor started to panic.

"Holy— what— what's going on? Are you okay, what's wrong?"

"My… my head is… exploding." Yuri muttered, eyes pinched tightly. Victor stood helplessly holding up his friend, waiting out the headache.

"What can I… should I do anything? I don't know what to do." Victor admitted hurriedly, heart slamming in his rib cage.

"I don't— I can't— _huuuuurts_ …." Yuri whined pitifully, like a child with a stomach ache. Victor needed a stronger word than panic to describe the sheer terror he was experiencing.

"Okay, uuuhhh…. okay. Let's just… let's just get you home, okay? I have pills for headaches there, and I bet getting some sleep will help. Also, you might be dehydrated. Hey, tour mom told me about a story where a girl with chronic headaches kept going to the hospital in tears because of migraines. Doctors checked everything and couldn't figure out what was going on. Turns out she has a disease where her body can't retain water. Here let, me tell you all about it…." Victor droned on. He hoped it was helping Yuri distract himself from the pain. It was one of the methods that the friendly neighborhood doctors taught him about helping Yuri through his pain. They said to get him distracted: engage in a conversation, tell a story, tell a joke, start singing— anything as long as it got his mind off the pain.

Victor thought it was working. They had sluggishly staggered to the Victor's front door before Yuri started complaining of the pain again.

"I know, I know, just a second. Hold on, Yuri, you're doing great." Victor muttered softly into his student's ear as he fished his key out of his pocket. Unlocking the door and swinging it open, the pair were met with a blast of warm air.

"God bless you, Yurio." Victor whispered in relief, glad that his new roommate thought to crank the heat up when Victor had demanded that he return to the apartment. Victor resolved to apologize for that. In the morning. Right now, everything either hurt or felt too frozen to hurt. He could only imagine how Yuri was feeling.

Victor scooped Yuri up like a groom would to his bride. He figured it would be easier to navigate around furniture while carrying Yuri, than it would be while trying to guide him. Yuri curled up tighter in Victor's arms, clutching the fabric of his friend's shirt and nuzzling into it. Victor clenched his jaw in order to not grin like a fool, and rushed to his bedroom with Yuri. His private bathroom, unlike the guest bedroom bathrooms, had the medication that might ease Yuri's headache. He hoped to God he hadn't run out of said medication.

Once deposited on the bed, Yuri curled into a ball, arms wrapping around his head like a self-made helmet. Victor pulled the blankets over Yuri and dashed into the bathroom. He swung the vanity open and snagged the correct bottle of pills, almost laughing with relief that he had it. He filled a cup with water on his way back into his bedroom, tip-toeing so as to make the least amount of noise possible.

"Yuri, I need you to take these." He whispered as softly as he could, trying not to further aggravate Yuri's headache. "Come on, sit up. Can you do that for me?" Yuri blinked lethargically at the sound of Victor's gently goading voice, and sat up with the other's help. After popping his pills in, Yuri accepted the water that Victor held for him and helped him drink. A small stream of liquid dribbled down his chin, but it was lovingly patted dry by Victor, who grinned at Yuri's clumsiness.

"Here, let's get you into something more comfortable." Victor said. He snickered in spite of himself when he saw the sweatshirt Yuri was wearing. For some reason the shirt suited his student. Victor reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a thick sky-blue sweater and a pair of fleecy grey sweatpants, which he handed to Yuri. Victor turned around, offering Yuri some privacy while he changed. Yuri managed to get out of his cold clothes and into the new set with minimal difficulty, but collapsed on the bed when he was finished, as if the act of changing clothes had taken a lot of energy out of him.

"Just lay down and go to sleep, I'll be on the couch if you need me." Victor whispered, heading towards the door after tucking the blankets around Yuri a bit more snuggly. Yuri curled back under the covers, body still shivering. The poor boy made a delicate whimpering sound that shattered Victor's heart.

"Yuri? What's wrong, do you need something?" Victor asked. Something in his chest felt oddly heavy. Yuri nodded and made a similar sound. He reached a slightly trembling hand out to Victor, who caught it between his bigger, warmer ones. Yuri squeezed Victor's hands weakly and tugged limply at them.

"Do you want me to sleep wi— ah… that is… to stay next to you?" Victor asked, struggling to word the question in a non-perverted way. Seeing how both of them knew how Victor felt about Yuri, Victor couldn't help but feel extremely awkward and out of place. His face heated up at the implication of it all. Yuri, not noticing Victor's dilemma, responded with a vigorous nod that had him scrunching his eyes closed and squinting in pain immediately after.

Victor blinked. This was the most awkward thing…. God, what was he supposed to do? He couldn't say no, that would upset Yuri. But saying yes would make a ridiculously awkward situation. Not that Yuri would see it as awkward because the kid was doped on pain killers and exhaustion. So… maybe it would be okay? Okay, yeah. It'll be okay. It'll be fine.

Victor nodded reluctantly and slid tensely into bed beside his student. Yuri reacted immediately. The freezing boy rolled over to lie directly next to his coach, head resting on Victor's shoulder. Victor's arm wrapped around Yuri on instinct, but he felt a heat flush across his face for the second time at the intimacy of it all. Yuri threw an arm across Victor, which landed on his chest, and he nuzzled his cold nose into Victor's neck. The sweet, relaxed sigh that left Yuri's lips made it all worth it. The awkwardness, the freezing cold body against his warm skin, all of it. Victor pulled the blankets tightly around the both and hugged Yuri tightly, the bone-deep aching weariness melting off.

* * *

When Yuri woke up, the first thing he felt was utter warmth and contentment. He was resting on something that was soft and solid at the same time, and was sandwiched and swathed between layers of warmth and protection, making him feel more secure and safe than he ever remembered being. He sighed softly, humming lightly when he felt something stroking his hair. At the sound of his hum, a breathy chuckle arose.

"He's like a cat." Yuri heard a voice whisper. This voice wasn't the one that had chuckled. Yuri didn't think that voice was the one who was practically petting him, either. Yuri scrunched his eyebrows, trying to decipher who was near him.

"Shut up, you'll wake him up." That was the voice that had chuckled, the one who was petting Yuri. Yuri cocked his head in the direction of this voice, willing his eyes to open. They felt so heavy— like weights were holding them down.

"Well he's waking up, anyways. Might as well speed up the process." At the end of this statement, to which Yuri wholly disagreed, there was a sharp poke in Yuri's spine. He cringed away from the poke and burrowed deeper into the warm, solid softness that was wrapped around him.

"Hey! Stop it!" the voice holding Yuri hissed. At the harsh sound, Yuri's eyes managed to lift their weights and pop open. Yuri jolted into an upright position, realized it was a mistake and doubled over with painful, raspy coughs that rattled his frame. Frantic voices shouted with alarm and hands reached out, grabbing whatever they could of Yuri to hold him up. He felt someone slip behind him, something wrapped around his ribcage and held him like a vise, and hands were on his faces, voices begging in his ears.

"Just breath, please, Yuri! Breathe!"

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay…."

"What do you mean "it's okay," Victor? He's not bloody breathing!"

"Shut it, Yurio, you'll make it worse! Yuri, ignore him, everything's fine. Just focus on my voice…" Yuri did as the voice— Victor, he realized belatedly— said and tried to hold his coughs in. Eventually rasps subsided to wheezes, which became gasps, which became regular breathing eventually.

"I'm—"

"I swear to God, if you say okay, I'm gonna—" Yurio never got to finish his threat because Victor released his grip around Yuri to smack him on the shoulder.

Yuri blinked. He was sitting in bed with his back against Victor's chest, and Yurio at his side. When had that happened? Wait, when did he get home?

"Yuri, are you okay?" Victor asked, pulling Yuri flush against his chest again. Yuri hunched his back and tensed at the sudden close contact. He released a held breath and relaxed slowly back into his coach's embrace.

"I don't… I don't remember…. When did I get home?" Yuri asked.

"I found you walking outside at night, remember? You were having headaches, we got home, got you changed and then… we fell asleep."

"Oh, right. Headache." Yuri touched his head lightly, a tiny pang reminding him of the explosion in his brain the nights before. Victor's reaction was immediate.

"Is it still hurting? Do you still have a headache? Why didn't you say anything?"

"No, I jus—" Yuri's soft voice went unheard.

"Yurio! Go fill this glass of water and get the bottle of pills on the sink."

"Victor, I—" Yuri raised his voice, wincing at its raspy tone.

"Yuri listen to me, I need you to breathe through it okay? Just breath."

"Victor." Yuri said in barely a whisper. For some reason this got Victor's attention more than when he raised his voice as loud as his tortured throat allowed him to go.

"What, what do you need?" Victor asked, almost frantic.

"Nothing, I'm fine. Just a sore throat, that's all." Victor eyed Yuri closely as if testing him to see if he was lying.

"Honest? Really tell me, even if you think you'll just be trouble. You aren't. Trouble, I mean. You aren't trouble." Victor stumbling over his words was rather endearing to Yuri.

"Okay, okay. I hear you." Yuri grinned. Victor nodded stiffly and fiddled with the end of his sleeve for a second.

"So… I should probably get you home…I guess…" he spoke up, his voice soft, slipping out from behind Yuri. Yuri felt confused.

"I am… home?" he said uncertainly. He glanced around. Yep, he was definitely in Victor's apartment. Victor's head whipped up and he stared deep into Yuri's eyes with an expression that so strongly emitted hope that it almost hurt.

"Why, what did you mea— o-oh. _Home_. Right. That." Realization hit him like a freaking truck. Victor meant "home" as in where he lived day to day. Victor's apartment wasn't home. Victor's apartment was a glorified sleepover. Victor's hopeful expression dimmed and melted into blankness with a tinge of loss. Eesh. Yuri felt really guilty.

And that's how Yurio found them. Staring at each other regretfully and looking like lost puppies.

"Is… everything okay?" Yurio asked tentatively. Neither Victor nor Yuri answered. Victor suddenly stood up quickly.

"Yes. Yuri was just leaving." Victor said stiffly. Yuri blinked. Apparently, Yuri was leaving. Okay then. Yurio looked back and forth between Yuri and Victor.

"Are you sure…"

"His parents are probably worried. I don't think he called them last night." Victor said almost formally without even glancing at Yuri, let alone asking him if he had called. Rude. Maybe he slept on the wrong side of the bed? But he seemed fine not even a second ago.

"Ah, yeah." Yuri agreed reluctantly. He slid off the bed, staggering slightly from the headrush.

"Are you okay?" Yurio asks, grasping Yuri's elbow to hold him up. Yuri latched onto the arm that held him steady.

"I'm fine, just stood up to quickly. I think I'm getting a little sick or something from last night, that's all." Yuri smiled in a way that was hopefully reassuring, but from Yurio's expression, it wasn't successful.

"Can I walk you home?" Yurio asked suddenly.

"He'll be fine—" Victor started gruffly.

"I didn't ask you." Yurio snapped. "Look, Yuri. If you pass out on your way home, who knows what will happen? We just got you back and we'd rather keep it that way, wouldn't we, _Victor_?" the way Yurio said Victor's name made Yuri wonder if there was something he was missing. Yurio said it through gritted teeth and with a clenched jaw. It sounded like he was irritated, like there were undertones of a warning in his voice. Victor didn't seem to notice and stalked out of the room as if he couldn't wait to get away from Yuri.

"What the heck?" Yuri demanded. Yurio shrugged. "One second he was practically cuddling me and was all sad that I have to go back home, and then he just can't wait to get rid of me? I mean what's with this guy? He was a jerk and then he went out at two in the morning to find me, he's willing to cuddle me through a panic attack and then he's kicking me out?" nothing made sense. "And, no. You may not walk me home."

"I can't believe he's still being like this." Yurio complained and for some reason, burying his face in his hands. "This is ridiculous!" he burst out.

"Uh, Yurio? He's just a tad bipolar, really. It's not a big deal. I think."

"Not a bi—? God, you're both so… so…" Yurio's face turned red as he strained to find the proper word.

"So, what? Stressful? Because that's a really good word to describe Victor right now. Stressful. And trying. And taxing. And… other synonyms for stressful."

"Troublesome?" Victor's voice shouted from the living room. He said it in a pointed way that made Yuri bristle slightly.

"Yes, exactly, troublesome. Thank you!" Yuri shouted back with as much attitude as his sore throat would let him.

"So…. So…." Yurio continued as if he hadn't even heard the exchange between Victor and Yuri.

"Don't have an aneurism, Yurio, just say what you're thinkin—"

"Stupid!" Yurio suddenly shouted. Yuri blinked and jerked away at the outburst. There was a moment of silence as Yurio reveled in his word choice, clearly pleased with himself.

"I have to admit, that was not what I was expecting."

"God, it's so obvious, and yet neither of you have the balls to step up and— I mean come on, there's twice as many balls in your relationship as there are in a straight relationship and straight guys find a way to get the balls to do it, so why can't one of you? You've got twice the chance!"

"Wow, that… is… something. Yep. That's something. Why are you yelling about ba— er— male genitals?" Yuri winced as his voice cracked awkwardly as his twelve-year-old mind giggled furiously.

"You see it right? You have to see it. You'd be blind to not see it." Yurio sounded like he was begging. He also sounded a little insane.

"Are you okay? Have you fallen in the last 48 hours? Have you been drinking?" Yuri was seriously concerned for Yurio's sanity.

"Yuri, he loves you! He loves you, you absolute _potato_! Why can't you _see_ that?" Yuri blinked. And he blinked again. He pursed his lips and cocked his head.

"Come again?" he must have just misheard him, that's all.

"He loves you, and you love him and you're both just causing more problems for each other and everybody else by not acknowledging your love for each other _so just freaking do it_!" Yurio's whole body was heaving as he gasped in air, completely out of breath from his rant. Yurio was clearly much more invested in his ship of Victor and Yuri than Victor or Yuri.

"Did… did you just call me a potato?"

"An _absolute_ potato." Yurio admitted unashamed. "Now let's get you out of here, I can play Cupid for you idiots after Victor's calmed down."

"I… I have so many questions… I have no idea where to start." Yuri said.

"Start at the beginning," Yurio suggested unhelpfully. There was a sudden loud crash in the living room. "Actually, start at the beginning over the phone when you call me after you get out of here." He amended. Yuri nodded vigorously in agreement and both skedaddled out of the room. Yuri slid into a sitting position when they reached the door, so he could tug on his shoes. He felt rushed and panicked like he needed to get out of the building as soon as possible.

"My clothes!" Yuri exclaimed, suddenly remembering his wet and freezing clothes, and the borrowed… outfit. Where were they, anyways? He didn't remember seeing them in Victor's room.

"No time, this is a need-based retreat." Determination glinted in Yurio's eyes as he pointed dramatically at the door like a sea-captain. Yuri cocked an eyebrow. "I'll bring your clothes later, there's no time!" Yurio clarified, pulling Yuri of the floor by hoisting up under his arms.

"Wha— oh, okay. You do realize this is Victor, right? We don't need to run from him like he's a criminal on the lose or something."

"You're right, he's not a criminal. He's a freaking bomb. A bomb with pressure that builds up and eventually makes him explode. You do remember the whole reason you ran out last night, right?" Yuri rubbed the back of his neck, smiling with embarrassment.

"Heh…. Yeah."

"So, let's get you gone now before he explodes, and I'll talk him around while you calm your parents down. They're probably freaking out because _you still haven't called them_." Yurio hinted, shoving Yuri out the door.

"Okay, okay— stop pushing me, I can walk by myself!" Yuri complained as Yurio slammed the door on his face. The sound the door made when it slammed shut seemed final. Like an opportunity missed with a loud bang.

Yuri stood in the hall outside the apartment, the space feeling oddly still and silent compared to the hectic noise and activity that had been taking place inside. He blinked and sighed softly, trudging down the hall and pushing his hands into the pocket of Victor's baggy sweatpants— which Yuri just realized he was still wearing. He hunched his shoulders up as he stared at the ground, the movement sending a waft of something familiar up to Yuri's nose. It was Victor's soothing scent. For some reason it made him homesick, for an apartment that wasn't his home, the hot springs was his home. But he wanted to turn back. Like, really, _really_ wanted to turn back. And run into Victor's and Yurio's arms. And apologize. And cry. Or laugh. Or both.

But he couldn't. So now where should he go? Yuri snickered bitterly.

He might as well go home.

Nowhere else to go.

* * *

Yurio gripped the door handle tightly after he shut it on Yuri's face. He tried to block the confused and slightly hurt eyes of his friend from his mind. Once the door had shut, Victor poked his head in from the living room.

"He gone?" Victor asked, only sounding slightly regretful. Yurio let out a bitter laugh. "Aw, come on! I didn't even do anything _that_ bad! I'm just a little… moody?" Victor argued.

"Yeah— he was more upset with the fact that you were _kicking_ _him out_ , than he was because of your pissy attitude with him."

"I wasn't kicking him out, I just—" Victor attempted, but was shut down.

"You just realized that this isn't technically Yuri's home and it pissed you off and you lashed out." Yurio said matter of factly. When it was said that way, it sounded stupid. But Yurio understood. It was irritating to not be able to give someone you love what they need.

"Yurio, he has to go home! I did nothing wrong, okay? I had to get him to go somehow, didn't I?" Victor felt a sinking feeling that he just repeated his mistake from last night.

"You just can't do anything right, can you?" Yurio said bitterly, wondering just what had to happen for Yurio or Yuri to get through Victor's thick skull.

"I'm trying, I just—"

"No, you're not!" Yurio shouted, whirling around and looking like a rabid animal. His body heaved with sharp breaths and his eyes glinted with anger. "You _know_ him! It's Yuri, for Christ's sake, everyone knows him! He just wants to be here with you, you idiot!" Victor threw his hands up in response.

"Come on, you and I both know how bad I'd be for him." Victor muttered moodily.

"So, you admit that it's a possibility?" Yurio asked slyly.

"That what's a possibility?"

"You and Yuri, of course! Jeez, you're both freaking _blind_ , how do you _stand_ it?" Yurio groaned dramatically, his hands dragging down his face in despair. Normally, Victor would've laughed at the rare antics his friend displayed, but he felt flustered by what Yurio was implying.

"I'm not— he's not— we're not— I can't—" Victor dragged a hand through his hair with distress, sending the normally styled locks to stand up and stick out at odd angles.

"You keep saying "not and "can't" and one day you'll look around and find that "not" and "can't" is all you have left." Yurio hissed cryptically. Victor opened his mouth to respond, but paused, looking suddenly puzzled.

"I have no idea what you just said." Yurio sighed irritably, reminding Victor of a teenager reacting moodily to a "lame" parent.

"It's something I heard in a song. If you keep saying that you'll never be able to have someone, then you really will never be able to have them because you'll be wasting all your time being negative and depressing instead of trying to get your man." Yurio explained wisely. Victor was still unconvinced.

"Is that where you're getting all your material from? Love songs?" Yurio threw Victor a shrewd look. "Okay, okay. I get it." Victor put his arms up in surrender "Be positive. It's a great message, really."

"You're so condescending." Yurio huffed. "Just…. Stop being a meat-head, okay? You were doing just fine before last night. Can you go back to doing that?"

"It just… it got… it's too close, Yurio. It's too much." Yurio sighed at this and clapped his hands together like he was praying. He bowed his head either in frustration, or prayer.

"Victor. I know you're scared of commitment, and that you're scared to admit that you're scared of commitment, but you need to get it together. For Yuri's sake. For _your_ sake."

* * *

Meanwhile, Yuri trudged home alone, an old saying running through his mind.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

 **AN:**

 **Sorry if this seems a little disconnected, or something. It felt weird to me, does it feel weird to you? It seems slow too, but don't worry! I got a few tricks up my sleeves!**

 **So, Vikturi lovers, what did you think? I got all the ship things in there: the cuddling, the apology, the lovey-dovey face/hand holding thing, the quick save of the collapsing better half, the bridal carry, the sacrificing-because-I-screwed-up-and-almost-lost-the-love-of-my-life thing— all I'm missing is the kiss and the sex (no. I'm not going to write shmexy times because I have the mind of a 12-year-old and would be blushing the entire time I write it and I'd be giggling over words and terminology used to describe parts of the male anatomy A.K.A. I'd get nothing done sorry).**


	15. If Walls Could Speak

**AN:**

 **It's the Christmas season! I hope you guys had a good one, if you celebrate. Or a good Hanukah, Kwanzah, winter solstice…. I'm running out of holidays…**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **This chapter is being posted early because I'll be away for a while where the wifi won't reach. I'll see your PMs on my phone, I may be able to see your comments depending on how the wifi is behaving, but I definitely won't be able to post chapters. So, I'm giving you this one early, your welcome, I'm an awesome person.**

 **This chapter may seem like a filler to people who are here strictly for some Victuri cuteness (we've all been that reader, don't lie to yourself), but for my plot-loving babes, this is important. There's just no Victuri. Or Victor. Sorry, I love you, don't hate me.**

 **Now, on with the show!**

CH 15— If Walls Could Speak

"Hello, I'm back…" Yuri mumbled softly, sliding the door to the private section of the hot springs open. It wasn't very busy today at the hot springs, and Yuri was extremely grateful. He was able to take his time going up those thousands of steps without having to make himself look busy, so no one would talk to him. He didn't have to try to move quickly to keep up with the crowds moving up the staircases, but even so, his legs burned and felt as heavy as lead when he reached the top. He was still a little out of shape, despite all of the physical therapy and daily exercises he had to do. Recovery was a slow, tedious and discouraging process. He wondered if he would always be in the "recovery" stage of life. Never moving forward, never regaining strength, never able to be back to "normal".

But he was pleasantly surprised to see how quiet the hot springs was, which boosted his spirits a bit. It was still, silent and serene. Like a hot springs should be, but never was. And while this was great, Yuri was, however, a bit concerned. There was a shocking lack of familial presence. As in, where the heck is his family?

The moment he announced his presence in the house, Yuri expected his mother to come running at him like a speeding bullet, and shouting at him for worrying her and disappearing. It wasn't that he was full of himself or that he assumed he would be missed so much, it was just how his mother was.

Yuri remembered very clearly that he had once been ten minutes late returning home from school one day because there was a traffic jam caused by a fender bender in the center of a large intersection he needed to cross. When he finally got home, his mother was in a panic and had apparently been calling his teachers and friends to see if they knew where he was. The moment he stepped foot in the door, his mother hugged him a million times, yelled at him for causing her to worry and thoroughly checked him for injuries over and over again. Meanwhile, Yuri's father and sister welcomed him home with a pat on the back and said, "good luck," when he asked them to calm his mother down.

So, when Yuri had been legitimately missing for almost 24 hours and there was no Mrs. Katsuki in protective-mother-bear mode, foaming at the mouth and chasing him around the house, he became a little concerned.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" His question was met with silence. If only the walls could speak.

"Mari?" He called hesitantly.

He poked his head into the living room and glanced around. The pillows sitting on the floor looked untouched and there was no one lounging across the futon. The TV and radio were off, as were the lights.

"Are you guys here?"

He knocked on every bedroom door, and even checked his own room. He heard no voices within the rooms, no shuffling around. He cracked the doors open, just a hair, hoping to not intrude on any privacy. Beds were made (except Mari's), desks were clear (except Mari's) and everything looked orderly (except for Mari's room). No one here either.

"Hellloooo…?"

He circled back to the kitchen, where he first entered, to do deeper search. No one sat at the table, no one was cutting vegetables or heating something in the microwave. The oven was off, the coffee pot (which is always on) was also off. There were not empty teacups in the sink.

"Is anybody here?" Has anyone _been_ here?

No response. Yuri frowned in confusion.

"Where is my family?" he asked the empty air. Yuri tried to remember the family's schedule for the day, but couldn't recall any birthdays, or appointments, or anything else that might require the family to leave their home for the day. Then again, his mother was a people person. She might have dragged her husband out to visit with some friends, and Mari might have gone out shopping, but she generally preferred to stay home.

Maybe they went to get help finding Yuri. Yuri's heart warmed a touch, and he couldn't help the large grin that spread across his face, despite the serious situation at hand. Maybe they got worried and all went to the police together to report him as missing and get help. Maybe they were on the streets right now, together, searching for him. Maybe they were pinning "missing" flyers around the neighborhood and showing his picture to everyone they came across.

Actually, if they were pinning posters and showing pictures, his mother would most likely be running around shoving flyers and photos in people's faces, frantically asking everyone if they had seen her "precious baby," as she occasionally still calls him (much to his embarrassment). His father would probably have a meltdown or a panic attack on the side, while his wife scuttled around trying to get the attention of passersby, and Mari would be the only one actually posting the flyers to phone poles and boards.

Ah, geez. He was such an irresponsible son, he should really call now. Yuri hunted around his pockets for his phone and dialed his mother's cell number, not having to even think before his fingers took over and typed the number with muscle memory. He held the phone to his ear and waited for his mother to pick up, expecting that she'd be out of breath with excitement when she heard that her son was safe.

Suddenly, Yuri heard the loud, cheery ringtone of his mother's phone. It sounded thunderous in comparison to the silence of the building. Yuri perked up, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he glanced around the room. He hunted down the phone, tracking its sound to the kitchen table.

"Oh." He muttered in surprise, not sure of what he had been expecting. His mother's phone was ringing in the house, but there was no one other than him in the building. Did he expect to find his mother in the house, having hid in the closet or something while Yuri had been hunting through the halls for his family? Yuri shook his head at himself and found the phone laying on the table blinking, proclaiming in colourful letters that a call from "Yuri" was coming in. It was odd. His mother rarely left her phone at home when she went out, but she was admittedly a little scatter-brained sometimes, so maybe she just forgot it.

"I guess I can call Dad?" Yuri shrugged, dialing another well-known number. He let it ring a moment, knowing that his Dad probably had his phone, but usually kept the device on silent. The call went to voicemail, where Yuri left a short message.

"Hi, Dad. I just got home, I wanted to let you all know that I'm fine. I forgot to call last night, I was just hanging out with Yurio…" Yuri suddenly remembered the not-so-good foot that his parents and Victor had left on and decided not to mention Victor's name.

"Anyways, I was just worried about you guys because I don't see any of you here and…. I guess… just call me back? I figure you're at the police station or out pinning "missing" posters or something, so…. Thanks for trying to find me. Um… sorry to cause trouble and… um, that's all, bye." Yuri cut the phone off and sighed.

Maybe he would have more luck with Mari. She didn't always answer, but she usually had her phone and might be willing to relay a message to their parents if Yuri left a voicemail asking her to. He dialed yet another number and listened to it ring until the soft recorded female voice asked if he wanted to leave a voicemail, call again or hang up.

"Hey, Mari. I was at Yurio's place last night and just forgot to call and let you guys know, so sorry if Mom and Dad were a little difficult last night. I just got home and, well, I was just wondering where all you guys are… I figure you're out there trying to find me, which I appreciate a lot. I called Dad, left a message. Mom's phone is here for some reason, are you guys okay? It's just… the last time Mom left her phone… Anyways, just… just tell them I called. And— and call me? Please?" Yuri hung up and stared at his phone in his hand, feeling like a scared little kid.

He leaned against the kitchen counter. Well now what was he supposed to do? Sit around with his phone in hand and wait for someone to call him back? There wasn't much else he _could_ do.

* * *

Yuri sighed, chin resting in his palm as he slumped across floor, his torso drooped across the table. He glanced at the phone in his hand for the millionth time. No messages. He considered calling his father and sister again but, seeing as he had called them both six times and they hadn't responded to any of his voicemails yet, he figured it was pointless. He still thought up horrible scenarios that would cause his family to leave the house, though. What if something bad had happened?

Yuri let out a strangled gasp, clutching his phone so tightly he heard the plastic creak. What if they were hurt? What if they were in the hospital? What if there was some sort of freak accident at the hot springs? Somebody could've drowned, or been attacked by some wild animal, or—

No. Yuri shook his head, willing himself to calm down. That couldn't be it. There would be news reporters, there would be caution tape, policemen— there would be some kind of sign that there had been an accident. But the hot springs was, and remained, tranquil and silent. All was well. Nothing happened.

Yuri relaxed back into his chair, still brainstorming everything that could've gone wrong.

A few hours later, he wondered if maybe his father had a heart attack. His father had heart issues that only seemed to be getting worse as the years got long, maybe those issues finally caught up to him. Or maybe his mother went blind! She had terrible vision and always said that she'd be as blind as a bat by the time she was fifty. Then again, she was 49 at the moment so her estimation was still a year off. Or maybe Mari…. There was probably nothing wrong with Mari, she was the only reliable one in the family. She must be at a theatre or some other place where phones have to be off.

Yuri chewed his lip, leg bouncing with jittery nerves. What should he do? He could ask some of the guests at the hot springs, but they probably wouldn't know anything. And then, of course, there was the problem that there weren't many guests around, so it would be difficult to track anyone down.

No, he should just wait. Someone will eventually come home, right?

The sound of scraping keys in the lock of the door snapped Yuri out of his thoughts.

"Stupid door— ah, got it!" a familiar voice crowed. And in stepped Mari, unwinding a scarf from around her neck while shaking snowflakes from her hair.

"Oh, hey kid." She greeted as Yuri stared, mouth open. She shook her umbrella out, leaning it against the wall over a mat to protect the floor. For some reason, Yuri was completely surprised to see his sister. He had been waiting for so long, it felt like no one was ever going to come home.

"You missed a crazy concert! I went with the twins and Akari, and it was amazing!" she raved, referring to her closest girlfriends back in high school. She continued on about how amazing the concert was, and named all the singers they saw, and announced how cute American boys are and explained how she preferred them to the "overly polite, prissy little British boys" that Akari likes…

Yuri just stared at her unblinkingly. He had never seen his sister quite so…. Happy? She seemed elated, thrilled, she was literally jumping up and down with joy, as if she couldn't contain herself. It was so strange. She hardly ever went out, and never went out with any friends, especially not ones from high school. She was the kind of person who believed that friends in high school were never life long, and that you should move on and not try to keep ties with them. Yuri had no idea that she was still friends with the twins and Akari. He wondered what changed, but couldn't bring himself to care. His permanently apathetic, irritated, grumpy, bored sister was squealing like a teenager and going out with her friends to see concerts. She was happy, and that made Yuri happy.

"I'm glad you had fun." He grinned warmly, and she surprised him by giving him a peck on the cheek before bolting down the hall to her room.

"Wait— Mar!" Yuri shouted after her, suddenly remembering his parents.

"Yeah?" she shouted from down the hall, head popping out from her doorway.

"Where are Mom and Dad?"

"Getting a divorce!" she stated neutrally. She ducked back into her room and threw her jacket out the door, so it landed in the middle of the hall. Yuri blinked, thinking it was a joke and stared at the jacket that lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Real funny, Mari. Seriously, where are they? Mom's phone is here, and I called Dad a million times, but he didn't pick up."

"That's because they were in court. Getting a divorce. Like I said." Mari called from within her room. It wasn't a joke? What? It had to be a joke. His parents wouldn't get a divorce, they love each other. Sure, they fight, but don't all couples fight? Questions swam around in Yuri's head, pounding on the inside of his skull.

"W-wait— what? They— how— what?" He asked, head snapping up and voice pitching upwards to an octave he hadn't reached since the fifth grade. Mari tossed her scarf and boots into the hall, and peeped back into the hall, racking her hair down from its sweeping up-do, a style Yuri hadn't seen on his sister since she was in middle school. She stared at him with confusion and mild concern, until something dawned on her. Her confusion melted to horror.

"Ah, right." She muttered, slapping a hand on her forehead. "We didn't say anything because you were in hospital, and then you were in rehab, and then you were still recovering from the memories thing, and this and that happened, and everything was going to shi— okay, let me just get the rest of my wet clothes together and I'll talk to you." she promised. She disappeared back into her room and tossed a pair of gloves and a sweater into the hall, then reappeared to gather the bundle in her arms.

"You know, I didn't expect it to snow so much on my way back from the concert, but I'm glad I decided to listen to Mom's mantra of "wear your coat, wear your coat, go get your coat, we aren't leaving until you get your coat." It got real nippy outside, real fast." Here she paused, turning back to Yuri. "I'll go dry these and come back to explain, unless you want to come with and I'll talk on the way." She offered. Yuri scrambled to follow his sister like a lost puppy. He felt somewhat hollow.

"So, I guess…. W-when did this all start? I… it must have happened while I was out, right? Out in a coma. Or when I didn't know who anybody was, or…" Yuri guessed as Mari came to a stop in front of the laundry room. She nudged the door open with her hip and shuffled into the room sideways.

"Well— oof— they've been fighting for a while, but it— it really started to go down while you were in hospital. They got in a fight over the, uh, the plug." Mari huffed out as she struggled to get through the doorway of the laundry room with the large pile of clothes she was carrying. She let out a sharp expletive as something fell from the pile onto the floor.

"The plug?" Yuri asked as Mari awkwardly squatted to scoop up a glove she dropped, without losing grip on the pile she held.

"You know— ugh— life support." She struggled to stand back up while balancing the pile of clothes in her arms. Yuri pulled the top few items off the stack to lessen her burden. "Mom was completely against it, of course, but Dad said he understood why the doctors would want to pull it. The machine that was keeping you alive was expensive and it could've been used to keep alive a person who was more likely to wake up—" Mari sighed sharply, clearly having heard the connotation of what she was saying. "All he said is that he understood the doctors' point of view, and she sort of snapped."

"Snapped?" Yuri couldn't imagine his mother snapping. She was so….

Okay, so maybe he could imagine it.

"You know, started yelling about how he was an awful parent who wanted to kill his child before giving him a chance to wake up, said he was siding against her— she threw a lamp, too."

"She threw a _lamp_?!" Yuri asked incredulously.

" _Ugly_ thing that it was. She put it out of its misery." Mari said, nudging the dryer open with her elbow. "Ow! Funny bone, God, why!"

"Are we still talking about the same woman here?" he asked, ignoring his sister's pain.

"And, of course," Mari continued as if not hearing Yuri. "You know what happened with Victor. She told him to stop seeing you and—"

"She did _what_?"

"She told him— sorry, did he not tell you?" Mari asked incredulously. Yuri's shocked expression was telling. She grimaced. Oops.

"Yeah, she told him to stay away from you. She associated the whole cutting thing and the jumping off a cliff thing as a direct consequence from spending too much time with Victor." She explained nonchalantly, dropping her clothes into the dryer.

"But that's—that's—"

"Asinine? Stupid? Backwards? Dumb?"

"All of the above!" Yuri felt as if steam was shooting out of his ears, he was so angry. This changes everything. _Everything_.

"Yeah, I was wondering why you were taking it so well. I guess you were taking it well because you had no idea. Strange, though. I thought he would've told you." Mari said thoughtfully.

"Victor hasn't been telling me much lately." Yuri admitted, wondering what else he hadn't been told.

"No, not Victor— he'd never tell you anything if there was a chance that it might upset you or something." she wrinkled her nose as if it was either stupid or sickeningly sweet. She slammed the lid to the dryer shut. "No, I meant Yurio. Victor's second."

"His what?"

"Yuri, seriously. Second, as in second in command." Yuri's blank expression spurred more explanation. "As in, whenever Yurio screws up, Victor fixes it, and whenever Victor screws up, Yurio fixes it. They clean up after each other, they do each other's dirty work, so to speak." Yuri still didn't get it, but nodded in understanding anyways.

"But anyways," Mari continued. "Mom and Dad were also freaking out about your whole rehab thing. Had no idea which one of them was going to take you. I didn't think it was as big a deal as they were making it... but then again I didn't want to take you either." Yuri tried to keep his expression neutral and not show how the fact that his own sister, let alone his parents, didn't want to help him get to rehab sort of hurt.

"Mom was all "high and mighty" about how men always assume the job of taking care of kids is the woman's responsibility, and Dad is too spineless to actually speak up for himself, so he just loathed her in silence." For what is was worth, Yuri was glad he was having this conversation with Mari. Anyone else wouldn't have told him that his parents argued about life support. Anyone else wouldn't have told him that neither of his parents wanted to take him to therapy. Anyone else wouldn't have called his father "spineless" or his mother "high and mighty."

"If I hadn't known about the divorce thing, I'd just blame it on the stress, you know? Their kid was hurting himself, then their kid was missing, then their kid fell off a cliff— still think that's a sketchy explanation, just saying— then their kid was in a coma and might not wake up, then their kid needed tons of therapy and couldn't remember everything— it was stressful. For them. That might have been a catalyst for the divorce, but it didn't start it."

"But why would they suddenly decide to…. They're so happy… they're such a great couple, I don't understand…." Mari sighed.

"Look, Yuri. Sometimes people just… fall out of love, you know? They realize that the person they love isn't exactly how they imagined them to be, or thought that they'd be, and they decide to move on. Sometimes it's in the best interest for the kids."

"We're hardly children, Mari."

"To them, we are."

"But how could that be our parents?" Yuri demanded in frustration. He just didn't get it. "They work so well together, they love each other so much! Just the other day, Dad bought Mom flowers! As in roses— the real deal! Do you know how hard it is to get roses in the middle of winter? It's impossible! And he did it!" Mari didn't respond, and instead turned to fiddle with the knobs and buttons until the dryer turned on. When she had finished, she leaned forward against the device as if turning the knobs and pressing the buttons had drained her. She had her back to Yuri, but he could sense how she felt. Her shoulders were so tense that they almost reached her ears, and her spine seemed like a stiff rod of steel.

"This is why I wanted _them_ to tell you." she complained in a rough voice. She sounded older than she did when she first got home. As if she gained twenty years in the last five minutes. Mari dragged a hand down her face before turning to face Yuri.

"They've been keeping up appearances for you." she admitted, voice hard. Yuri blinked, not immediately following her train in thought.

"They didn't seem to have any problem with me knowing what was really going on, but when they thought about you knowing…" Mari shook her head. "You're their youngest child. To them, you'll always be their baby." Yuri grimaced at this.

"They pretended to still be… in love?" he asked uncertainly, only to receive a tight nod in return. "Why would they pretend— why would they _lie_ to me like that?" Yuri's voice cracked embarrassingly, and the feeling of betrayal ripped through his heart— a feeling he was quickly becoming accustom to. Mari looked tortured, and gnawed her lip.

"Yuri—"

"I mean, what were they going to do when they came home with the divorce papers? Sleep in the same bed, kiss each other good morning, and live their lives the same way as before?" Yuri felt white hot betrayal curl in his chest. "Were they going to keep wearing the rings, call each other pet names and date new people in secret? And what if they fell in love with whatever person they were dating? Would they marry them and still live with us, keeping up the show until they die?"

"I think… I don't think they planned it out very far, you know? They didn't… they didn't plan— I don't even know if they thought they would even follow through with the divorce at all. They were very back and forth for a while…" Mari trailed off, then shook her head and started again.

"Anyways, they told me they just knew they had to end things. I think they were going to hold out on the decision of when or how to tell you until the last minute. They both tend to do that with big decisions. Putting it off." Mari admitted, blowing stray hairs out of her face in frustration directed towards their parents. Yuri stared at her blankly before sinking to the floor, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation as his elbows rested against his drawn-up knees.

" _God_." He muttered, feeling as if his world was falling apart. "But, why? Why are they… is there a reason? Is it because… did I make it worse? Are you sure I didn't make it worse?" he asked helplessly, sounding vulnerable and young even to his own ears.

"Did I... did I… accelerate things? I know you said something about a catalyst... but did I push them into it? Did I…" Yuri searched for the words, eyes beginning to burn. "Did I confirm something— like, confirm their belief that they don't work well together? Because I caused more stress…. Stress makes it hard to work with people. I did this. I caused— I started— I tore our parents apart…" He buried his face into his arms when he felt a familiar prickling sensation in his eyes and the well-known heat of embarrassment flushing his skin.

Mari visibly choked back tears. She rushed over to Yuri and collapsed on the floor beside him. She hesitated. Katsuki Mari was _not_ a "people person." She didn't know what to do— getting people to stop crying was _not_ her forte. She quickly began pulling images from movies and lines of text from books to scavenge information together in her mind on how to sooth someone. Relying on her gathered intel, she pulled her little brother in for a tight hug.

"No, no." She heard herself, she was practically cooing! Look how far the great and powerful, "I don't need anybody, screw you" Katsuki Mari has sunk! "You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I promise, it's okay, Otouto, it's okay. Shush, now. I've got you." Mari murmured empty phrases softly into her brother's ears, attempting to relieve him even from just a little of the pain that was biting him. They stayed that way for a while, until they heard the door in the kitchen being pushed open and the sound of familiar voices arguing loudly.

"…. making it sound like this is all my fault, how despicable!" a shrill, female voice was exclaiming. Mari and Yuri traded knowing looks, having gotten in enough trouble as children to recognize that angry voice to be their mother's. Yuri distinctly remembered wishing the walls told secrets. It looked like those walls were beginning to share.

"Despicable? Me?! I wasn't the one who tried to pin our daughter against me!" That would be their father. Surprising, because he usually didn't fight back against his wife. As Mari had said, he was rather spineless. Passive.

"You were lying to the— what was I supposed to do? You were _lying_!" Yuri could feel the hatred radiating off his mother through the walls that separated them.

"I wasn't— oh, and your answer was to say "hey Mari, remember that time when your dad—" Their father's voice became high as he mimicked and mocked his wife's words.

"Oh, so you aren't denying that you lied—" their mother sounded proud, as if she had caught her husband in the act of something awful. Mari sighed heavily through her nose as Yuri perked up at the argument they overheard, hoping that he might hear something to help him understand why his parents suddenly wanted to separate. He was drawn back to his own situation when he realized something.

"Wait… I thought… w-weren't you at a concert?" Yuri asked uncertainly, face itching as the muscles moved tear-stained skin. "They just… Dad just said Mom was p-pinning you against him but… but they're t-talking about a di-different time, right? Like… they aren't talking about today, right?" Yuri felt panic bubbling up inside him. His sister lied to him. His sister _lied_ to him.

"Yuri, I… Yuri!" Mari shouted in protest when Yuri leapt up from the ground and began racing out of the room. "Yuri—" she sighed again. "We really need to get our own place." She groaned, flopping across the floor.

* * *

"Keep your voice down, what if Mari hears—" Yuri heard his mother hiss quietly.

" _You_ keep _your_ voice down, what could we possibly argue about that Mari hasn't heard yet?" his father spit back childishly.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?!"

"It's _supposed_ _to_ _mean_ that you're loud and Mari has heard everything already because of your banshee shrieks that—"

"Banshee shrieks—" Yuri's mother laughed darkly, mocking her husband.

"Uh… Mom?" Yuri hedged delicately into the room as if expecting something to be thrown at him. Maybe… a lamp.

"Yes, banshee shrieks! You're so loud, I'm surprised that the neighbors haven't come by complaining about broken glass—"

"Actually, they did complain last week—" Yuri's mother said lightly.

"Did they now? And what did they say—"

"They were complaining about a loud _male_ voice—" Yuri could really hear that "high and mighty" thing Mari was talking about.

"D-Dad?" Yuri tried again, failing. Again.

"Oh, right. I'm sure that's what they said, I'll have you know I never shout—"

"Oh, now you're—"

"If you say lying, I swear I'll—" his mother warned through gritted teeth.

"Help. I'm dying." Yuri said dully, changing methods. He was still ignored. Dang.

"You'll what?" His mother challenged.

"I'll…" Yuri's father faltered, the "spineless" thing kicking in.

"Yeah. That's what you are, that's what you do. You're all talk—" His mother ranted.

"At least I'm not a liar." His father jumped back into the game.

"Mom, I'm pregnant." Yuri announced. Still no reaction. He frowned. He'd have to try harder. Get more creative.

"At least I didn't consider letting my child _die_." Low blow. The room went silent. Yuri's jaw dropped as he watched in morbid fascination as his parents, who were staring at each other, began to turn red in the face. Oh wait. Silence. He should take advantage of this.

"So, I'm home now." Yuri announced suddenly. His parents didn't even look at him.

"That's nice, honey— w-wait— Yuri?!" Yuri's mother caught on before his father did.

"Yep. That's my name." Yuri muttered dryly, leaning back against the wall behind him. his arms folded across his chest self-consciously, but he kept his bitter gaze trained on his parents.

"We— we didn't see you there, son." His father said in a falsely cheerful voice, a weak grin tugging at the corners of his tense mouth.

"Yeah. I noticed." Dry as ever, Yuri.

"I-I'm sorry…. We were… how much did you…"

"How much did I hear?" Yuri finished his mother's question. When the woman nodded tersely Yuri glared down at the ground, his moment of bravado fading.

"Since… y-you were worried about Mari hearing…" Somehow it seemed ironic— sadly funny— that they had been so worried that Mari might hear them. Mari who had already heard everything. Mari who had shown up to their hearings and court sessions to testify or to do whatever one does in court when their parents are getting a divorce. Mari who had been placed between her parents in every argument. Mari who had been forced to keep a big, hug, colossal thing a secret from her own brother.

But they weren't worried about Yuri. Not Yuri, who they'd been keeping this secret from. Not Yuri who had, according to most sources, experienced severe trauma as of late. Not Yuri, who was missing—Yuri suddenly realized with minimal grief or anger that his parents had forgotten. They didn't realize he was gone all last night. They hadn't noticed their only son; their youngest child was missing. It was okay. He just wasn't noticeable. He wasn't an obvious or loud person. He kept to himself, usually in his room or at the rink with Victor and Yurio. He wasn't seen around the house much. When they didn't see him yesterday, it wasn't unusual.

"We… I'm sorry, Yuri, we wanted to tell you. We really did, but…"

"You didn't _want_ to tell him, Hiroko! You were _never_ going to tell him!"

"Oh really, you thought we were going to get divorced just to live the same lives we had to start with? We would live together, fight over the TV remote, stay side-by-side?"

"I didn't know what you were going to do because you don't communicate—"

"Our therapist said _we_ don't communicate! As in the both of us, not just me!" his mother defended herself, face turning a brilliant shade of tomato red.

"Will you _shut up_!?" a fourth voice demanded from the hall. There were heavy thuds and the sound of something falling, followed by a sharp yelp and a few colourful expletives. Yuri and his parents traded concerned glances.

Moments later, Mari scurried into the room and hunched over, breathing harshly as she held herself up by her hands braced against her thighs.

"What did you fall off of? Last I saw you were sitting on the floor… sounded like you jumped off the dryer or—" Yuri asked, more out of curiosity than concern.

"Shut…up…God, I can't breathe…." Mari had attempted to appear intimidating to her brother when telling him to shut up, however her wheezing for breath made her anything but. She stood back up, arching her back and taking a couple of deep breaths.

"Whoo! Okay…. I'm good, I'm good." She waved off Yuri's frantic hands when he tried to get her to sit down. She rested her hands on her hips and stared down at the floor. Silence settled eerily in the private section of the Katsuki hot springs.

"I'm so out of shape." She joked, still slightly breathless. Her chuckle was weak and short. "Look, Mom, Dad… I get it, okay? You want a divorce. That's swell. But don't ruin everything for Yuri and me while you do it, okay?" The Katsuki parents exchanged confused glances.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I understand what you mean—" their mother seemed offended and was using that "disapproving mother voice" that made Yuri want to cower, better yet run and hide.

"Me either, are you saying that us separating for the good of ourselves is bad for you?" their father piped up, agreeing with his wife for once.

"I've had to listen to you screaming at each other for months. I've have to keep this all a secret— the divorce, the arguing, the couples' therapy— I've had to keep it a secret from my person. I go to _Yuri_ for these kinds of things. When I'm mad that you're not trying hard enough in couples' therapy, or when I was nervous for the court sessions, or when I was upset because— hey, my parents are getting a divorce, the people who taught me what love means have decided to stop loving each other— I wanted to go to _Yuri_ , but you said not to! You made me promise not to! I have no one else, I have to tell him these things, I have to rely on him. and I couldn't— you wouldn't let me. You— you made me lie to him, made me shut him out. And that's… that's upsetting— it's-it's upsetting and I… I can't…" Mari dropped her face into her hands, as her parents looked on in what almost resembled fear. If only the walls could speak.

"You know, when Yuri went missing— not last night, when he went missing months ago during that freak accident with the cliff— I… I was lost, too." Yuri felt suddenly very uncomfortable, as if he was intruding on a private moment. He also felt a whole lot guiltier.

"I pretended I was fine. I acted normal. I did what I was supposed to, smiled when I was supposed to, talked when I was supposed to. But I didn't mean any of it. Didn't… didn't care." Mari gave a bitter chuckle.

"You know, they always worry about the victim." Mari said thoughtfully. "As they should, as they should." She amended when her parents gave her a strange look. "But, they only seem to worry about him. Maybe they think about the parents, a bit. You know, they think about those poor parents who must be frantic with worry. Their baby is missing, how can they cope?" Mari closed her eyes, face tightening with some emotion that Yuri couldn't name.

"No one ever really thinks about anyone else, it's like there _is_ no one else. No grandparents, or best friends. No boyfriends or girlfriends, no siblings. But we suffer too, you know? We lose, too. We cry, too. Just not in the open." Mari must have seen the blank look on their parents' faces, because she groaned in frustration and started again.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you have two kids. Okay? Two. Not a personal assistant to deal with your lies and arguments, not a secretary to be at your beck and call. Not a shadow you don't have to see when you don't want to, not a ghost who you can forget about. Children. Two. You have them. You can't make me pick sides or keep your secrets, you can't ignore Yuri or keep important things from him— he's an adult, for Christ's sake! And you have to remember that we're people, too. We…. Feel stuff… too. I guess is what I'm saying, I guess…" Mari sighed. "That's all I'm saying." Yuri gave her an expectant look. Mari nodded, crossing her arms in petulant silence. Then she started up again.

"Also, did you, you know, happen to notice at all that Yuri was missing for the whole day yesterday?" Mari asked their parents, her tone clearly accusing them of something. "Did it, I don't know, cross your mind or anything that you hadn't seen your son for, like, 36 hours?" more catatonic expressions from the parents.

"Didn't _think_ so." Mari muttered bitterly, flopping down on the table and propping her chin up on a hand with her elbow digging into the hard wood of the table.

"I mean, _I_ didn't really notice either." She said quickly. "He left early, like he normally does to go skating. I thought he just stayed out late with Victor and Yuri and decided to stay the night with them or something… But I'm the sister. It's not my job to notice that stuff. You're the parents. It's _your_ job to notice that stuff." Mari fell silent once again. The room was quiet. Stiff, eerily still and full of tension. It was like thick smoke.

"Alright, this is how this is going to go." Yuri snapped, feeling suddenly really… mad? He needed a stronger word than that. He was just sick of it. Sick of all of it. Sick of everyone seeing through him and talking over him. It sounded like he was pitying himself, like he was weak and staying quiet when he could make himself seen and heard, but he felt irritated, antsy, like he had an itch he couldn't reach.

"We're all going to sit down and talk. About this. About the accident. About the hospital. The arguing, what will happen after the divorce, court— anything anyone wants to talk about, we're talking about it." Yuri had the feeling he was going to regret saying "anything," but his family was falling apart. He had to fix it. Sew it back together. Paste the gaping wounds shut.

He plopped down dramatically across from Mari, his hands folding together on top of the table. Mari sat up from her defeated, slumped position cautiously. She glanced wildly between her brother and parents, trying to figure out what was going to happen. Yuri gave her a sharp nod, to which she sighed and leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms. Their mother and father traded yet another glance.

"I have nothing to hide." Mr. Katsuki said coolly, almost snidely as he slid down at one end of the table. He folded his hands as well, looking up at his wife expectantly.

"This is why I don't want to talk to you, or look at you, or— I don't even want to be in the same room as you!" Mrs. Katsuki snapped, fists shaking with fury at her sides.

"You're angry that I can tell the truth, something you clearly need help in." He muttered under his breath.

"You know what? I don't have to deal with this. I can just get that divorce and never see you again in my life." Mrs. Katsuki threw her hands in the air for emphasis and stormed out of the room. Mr. Katsuki shook his head, as if his wife was being immature or selfish, unlike he, of course. Mari and Yuri looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They stood up in synch and stalked down the hallway, leaving their confused father at an empty table.

 **AN:**

 **I really struggled with the whole divorce thing. A lot of my friends' parents have divorced, so I tried to pull from what I remember them going through at the time, but I'm not sure how accurate I am. I feel like I over victimized Mari/Yuri and over criminalized the parents. Totally feel free to yell at me if I did, or if I messed something else up, and I'll go back and fix it. The problem is that my friends were teenagers or younger when their parents divorced, but Yuri and Mari are pretty much adults. I feel like an adult would react differently when finding out that their parents are divorcing than a teen or a child would. My mom's parents divorced when she and her older brother were adults, so I've also been trying to pull details of that experience from her without seeming suspicious. Walking up to her and saying "hey I need to know about a personal and painful experience you went through a while ago so that I can write fanfiction about it thanks" wouldn't go over to well!**

 **Also, I hope this didn't seem like it came out of left field to anyone. I've been thinking about writing the Katsuki's into a divorce (that sounds ominous) for a while, as in since the chapter where they told Victor to eff off. I just couldn't tell if it really fit well or not. Hopefully you guys think it does!**

 **As always, comments and suggestions are beyond welcome. Even if you have something not pretty to say, or if you think your ideas are crap. I want to hear it, trust me.**


	16. The Curtain Closes

**AN:**

 **WARNING. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER IN THIS STORY. LIKE EVER. LAST ONE. RGHT HERE.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice.**

 **It's the end, but I don't want to get all sappy with you until the very end, so if you want to hear all the deets check out the bottom. I hella procrastinated on this chapter, and actually only finished writing it a minute or two before posting. Usually I have it done or near-done before the day I'm planning to post, and I just edit that day…. But I came up with a good 60% of the content like two minutes ago…. I'm bad, I'm sorry.**

 **Now on with the show!**

CH 16 I think, honestly I'm not sure I think, I mis-numbered somewhere along the way, oh well— The Curtain Closes

"I'm so done."

"I know."

" _So,_ done."

"Me too."

"You're not even listening to me."

"I totally agree."

"Mari!" Yuri snapped, throwing a pillow at her. His sister dodged the object easily without looking up from her phone. She was sitting on the end of Yuri's bed, cross legged with her phone in hand. She was texting with a furious speed while her brother sat up against the wall at the other end of the bed, slowly succumbing to an existential crisis. Yuri growled at the lack of response from his sister and leaned back again, lightly banging his head against the wall at a steady tempo.

"I jus—" he started again.

"Yuri, I _know_."

"But how—"

"I don't _know_."

"And I can't—"

" _Yuri_. Get over it." Mari said flatly, still texting. Yuri shot her a glare.

"What do you mean "get over it"? My parents are getting divorced, for crying out lou—"

"Yeah, and so are mine!" Mari snapped, her irritation breaking her focus away from her phone. She glared at her brother. She loved the brat, she really did. But sometimes he was _such_ a drama queen…

Now that she was looking at him, Mari felt like she was really seeing him for the first time in a long time. Ever since he was in the hospital, everything was so crazy getting insurance to cover expenses like medication and hospital stays was a bi… a difficult thing, figuring out whether to pull the plug or not had her parents arguing for months even _after_ their kid had survived. Divorce papers needed to be filed, court meetings attended and prepared for— there was never a moment to sit and look at her brother and consider what she could do to help him. Now that she was actually looking at him, and consciously thinking about looking at him…. she saw a lot more than she thought she was going to.

Her little brother had bags under his eyes, his hair was a mess, he hadn't changed out of his sweats in at least two or three days and he probably hadn't eaten recently either. Mari sighed as she saw how her brother was curled up against the wall, gloomily plucking at a string on the blanket he was wrapped in. He looked like a dejected, lost kitten.

Mari took a deep breath. "Yuri." She said in a warmer tone. "Yuri, I want you to listen to me." She said. Her brother didn't lift his head, but she saw his eyes flit to glance at her. That was enough, she supposed.

"Yuri, this is normal, okay? It happens to a lot of people." She continued in her "talking to little children" voice. Yuri didn't respond. "It's not like we're never going to see them again, they just won't be married anymore." Mari added. She understood that it was upsetting for Yuri that his parents were suddenly separating, but how could he still be… mourning?

"You can't just let this take over your life, you know. You're going to have to move on at some point." It sounded harsh, but Mari knew her brother. She knew how Yuri tended to dwell on things. He'd trap himself in his own mind, worrying and fretting constantly until someone interfered. Usually it was Mari who came along and dragged him out of the depths of his own pity party. She would slap him in the face, pat him on the shoulder and set him back on his feet. But now… now she had no idea what to do.

She had discovered that, behind her back, her brother regularly hurt himself. Then she received a call that the idiot literally took a long walk off a short cliff. And, now she had her brother back and they were battling a "normal" problem. But, somehow, she'd forgotten what to do. It was like she didn't know how to handle "normal" problems anymore. By all means, throw self-harming and suicide and cliff walking at her, she could handle that. But divorces? She had no idea where to even start!

It was such a down step, going from cliffs to divorces. It was like math. It's easier to handle the difficult things because they're fresh in your mind, but the easier things that you learned in grade school— it was like that stuff was wiped from memory! She needed someone's help. Someone who could get to Yuri. Someone who loved the brat, but was strong enough (and cared enough) to whip the kid into shape.

"That's it!" Mari exclaimed, jumping off the bed. Yuri raised his head, interest mildly poked by his sister's sudden outburst. She was typing even faster on her phone, face red with either excitement or anger (he couldn't tell. He hoped it was the former, rather than the later. His sister was scary when she was mad). He watched Mari pace back and forth across the room, cowering on the bed as his curiosity plummeted into something that more resembled fear. Dear God, what was his sister up to?

"Alright." Mari said, suddenly stopping in the middle of the room. She held her phone out, displaying the brightly lit screen in front of Yuri's face. It was a texting conversation. With Victor. Yuri felt slightly betrayed. He glared at Mari, wondering what her motives were and whether or not he could trust her. Mari huffed at this.

"Calm down, what other choice do I have? I'm clearly not getting to you, so I'm bringing in back up. Victor's coming over, he'll be here in ten. Play nice." And with that, she stalked out of the room, clearly proud of herself.

Yuri grumbled to himself as his sister teasingly gave him a two-finger peace sign over her shoulder before dashing out of the room, the door swinging shut behind her. Yuri stared after her. Before flopping back down on his bed.

"I'm running away." He groaned pitifully.

* * *

"What the…?" Victor asked. He was lounging across his couch, one arm buried in a bowl of salty popcorn and the other around the shoulders of a lazy Yurio who was watching TV while he held Victor's phone up for him to see.

"Apparently Yuri's big sis needs you." Yurio informed him. The screen of his phone was blown up with messages from Mari, all demanding his attention.

 _12:58_

 _Hey Victor._

 _12:59_

 _Hey._

 _1:00_

 _Don't ignore me._

 _1:02_

 _Pick up your phone._

 _1:02_

 _I need a favour._

 _1:03_

 _It's not a big one, don't freak._

 _1:03_

 _Never mind it's a big one._

"What do you think she wants?" Yurio muttered curiously, scrolling through the texts. Victor shrugged.

"I guess I'll just have to—"

"Oh look, she responded."

"Responded?" Victor asked, glancing down at his screen. There was a single blue bubble amidst the many yellow bubbles from Mari, implying that he had texted Mari back. Which he did not do. "You responded to her for me?"

"Don't get so offended, you sound like a 12 year-old-girl denied a pair of shoes from a ritzy shoe store."

"That was oddly specific. Do you know many 12-year-old girls, Yurio?" Victor asked innocently, grinning broadly.

"Shut up." Yurio growled.

"I mean, 12 is a little young for you, don't you think?" Victor sniggered.

"I said shut up, do you want to see what Mari needs or not?" Victor let out a noncommitted sound, clearly displaying his lack of empathy towards Mari and whatever she might need. "She's Yuri's sister. She's an extension of Yuri. You'd help Yuri if _he_ texted you, wouldn't you? Hmm?" Yurio persuaded. Victor glared at him.

"Fine." He answered moodily, pouting as he crossed his arms across his chest. Yurio grinned.

"Brilliant. Okay, here's what she said: _Yuri is still crying over the divorce_ — wait, divorce?" Yurio asked, cocking his head at the message.

"Crying?" Victor perked up, concern for his friend flashing across his features.

"Um…. Blah, blah, blah, _can't get him to chill out, he's complaining all the time… divorces are normal, everyone has them, why is he affected this way_ … doo, doo, dooooo…. Basically, she can't get him to calm down and she needs you to do her dirty work for her."

"Helping Yuri is not _dirty_ work." Victor muttered indignantly, making a face at Yurio, who promptly laughed.

"You're such a child."

" _You're_ a… child…." Victor trailed off, realizing he just proved Yurio's statement correct.

"Go, Prince Charming. Away on your white stallion!"

"I'm going to kill you. What else did she say? Ask her about the divorce. And why is Yuri crying?"

"Alright, alright!" Yurio grunted as Victor elbowed him excitedly in an attempt to get Yurio to type faster. Yurio batted his friend's pointy elbows out of the way as he typed a short question.

"Okay, she says their parents just up and decided to divorce. Something about a lack in communication and a misunderstanding of goals and basic needs and wants— I think she's writing a divorce textbook—"

"Yurio."

"Alright, alright… says that…. Blah, blah, blah—"

"Don't say "blah, blah, blah," actually read it!"

"She's just complaining about how they keep putting her in the middle and making her solve everything, so she has her own crap to deal with. Apparently Yuri is upset about the divorce and thinks it's his fault, and it looks like their parents aren't doing anything to help so she feels like she has to step up but doesn't know how to help him, are you happy now, you overgrown potato?"

"Yes, tha— stop calling me a potato!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

"That... doesn't make any sense!"

"Will you go figure out what the heck is wrong with Yuri, now?"

"What's wrong with _you_?"

"Maybe it's because my two best friends are absolute—"

"I swear to God if you say potatoes—"

"— idiots…. Go fix Yuri!" Yurio demanded, shoving Victor off the couch and throwing his legs out to cover the rest of the cushions so Victor couldn't just crawl back onto the seat.

"I'm going, I'm going. I don't think he'll want to see me, but I'll go just in case."

"Of course, he wants to see you, you're his friend, banana breath—"

"Stop using food to describe me."

"— now end this pity party for yourself, and save your damsel before he causes more distress for the rest of us." Yurio demanded, pulling the bowl of popcorn onto his chest and turning sideways so he could stay laying down but still see the TV and eat at the same time.

"You're so supportive, Yurio, did I ever tell you that?"

"No."

"Good. Because it's a lie." Victor muttered, stealing his phone back from Yurio and spinning on his heel to stalk down the hall to get his coat. He slipped it over his shoulders and wrapped a grey woolen scarf around his neck before stepping into his shoes. As he exited, he heard Yurio shout a few expletives and call Victor a few more names based on a garden variety of fruits and vegetables before he slammed the door behind him. He slipped his leather gloves on and pocketed his wallet, which he swiped off the small table by the door before he left.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath, not feeling too optimistic. He stepped out into the frigid temperatures off a snowy day in Japan, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. The view was breathtaking. The sun was a golden ball in the sky, setting a glow like fire onto the clean, smooth snow that glittered like stars and diamonds. It would have been easier to enjoy if the wind wasn't numbing Victor's face off. He squinted at the sun, wondering what its purpose was, seeing how freezing it was despite the warm rays of sunshine reflecting off the snow.

He crunched through the "virgin snow," as Yurio called it. Snow that hadn't been stepped on, driven through, or otherwise touched by man was considered "virgin," and, depending on who you asked, it was either a gift to be the first to trample through it, or it was the highest offense one could commit against nature. Victor couldn't help but remember this as he walked through the snow, relishing in how satisfying it is to be the first one to leave a mark.

As soon as he made it closer to the heart of the city, the "virgin snow" because lumpy and grey like clumps of wet ash. Traffic from pedestrians and vehicles stirred up and created pollution and garbage that tainted the pure, clean snow. Victor sighed when he saw this. Snow was so beautiful, but it seemed that people just had to taint and destroy that beauty as if they were jealous of it.

Victor grinned, chuckling softly under his breath at his own musings. A Russian passionate about snow, who knew? And it was on this remark that Victor realized he was already at the bottom of the million-step staircase that lead to the Katsuki hot springs and home. The distance between his apartment and the Katsuki abode was much less than Victor had thought it was. He had tried to get an apartment far away from the hospital Yuri had been staying at, but hadn't considered the fact that Yuri would eventually leave the hospital and go home. Now, Victor was glad he didn't pick a place so far from Yuri's home. A walk any longer might have turned Victor into a popsicle.

A sense of sharp dread rolled in Victor's stomach as he hiked the stairs up to the hot springs. He was going to have to calm Yuri down after the poor kid discovered that his parents were divorcing. What in the world was _Victor_ supposed to do to fix that? Considering the fact that Victor couldn't go longer than five minutes without cursing the ever-loving cupcakes out his mother, he didn't think he was the best option to help Yuri. Yuri was doom and gloom about his parents separating. He clearly loved his parents and, knowing Yuri, the kid was probably more upset that his parents were in pain than he was concerned about his own pain. He wasn't rage and fire like Victor was. He wasn't cursing his parents, and kicking them out, and telling them to never come back. He was responding in a normal, child-of-divorced-parents way. What was Victor supposed to do with normal?

"дерьмо." Victor hissed, realizing he was suddenly at the front door to the private section of the hot springs, where Yuri and his family lived. He still hadn't finalized a "help Yuri with his parents' divorce" plan, yet. Crap. Victor started pacing back and forth in front of the door. Okay, think quick. He had to comfort Yuri, who was probably thinking the divorce was all his fault and that he was never going to see either his mother or his father, depending which one was moving out of their hot springs home. Comforting is easy enough, if Victor hadn't managed to yell at Yuri and upset him _again_ just a few nights ago. Victor threw his arms around in an angry gesture, silently hating himself for screwing up for the millionth time. Okay, so it'll be a little difficult, Yuri will forgive him, right? He'll be more worried about his parents' divorce than he will with whatever Victor had done to upset him this time…. Right? Focus! Victor's mind ran in circles while, unnoticed by him, a face appeared in the tall window by the door. The face watched with mixed confusion and amusement, clearly finding the situation at least a little entertaining. The cool, calm and collected Victor Nikiforov pacing back and forth on your porch, pinwheeling his arms and muttering to himself was quite the site. When Victor buried his face in his hands and crouched onto the ground, the face's expression morphed into concern and disappeared from the window. The door swung open, creaking softly in protest against the frigid temperature of Japan in winter. Victor knew he should get up from his pitiful, borderline fetal position on the snowy porch of the Katsuki home, but he couldn't bring himself to muster up the energy to do so. He was having a heart attack. He had no idea why he was having a heart attack. Heart attacks come when you're stressed, but Victor wasn't stressed— Wait, he was panicking. He was freaking out because Yuri probably hates him. He can't have Yuri hate him, he _needs_ Yuri. What is he going to do without Yuri? He can hardly go three days without seeing him! What if Yuri turns him away at the door— what if Yuri never wants to see him again? Oh, God. He can't breathe. Can't see. Can't move. God, heart attacks suck. There was someone behind him. Someone was running through the snow at him. There's voice talking to him. What was it saying? Can't hear. The person came closer, creeping as if Victor was a wounded animal. The person was suddenly… hugging? Hugging Victor? And saying something. What was the person saying? "Vic…. Vic…" Vic. There was something in between when the person said Vic. Can't hear, can't hear, _can't_ — "Vic!" What?

"My God, Vic, calm down!"

Calm? Vic is calm. Vic is very calm. Why is the Earth shaking? The Earth is the one who should be told to calm down.

"Wait, saying "calm down" never helps, um— goodness, I suck at this. You'd think that, with my experience, I'd be a whizz at meltdowns— Victor, just listen to me, don't think about whatever it is that you're… thinking about! That's good advice, great going, Yuri."

Am listening, am listening. Need to breath, need to breath, need to breath. No air, suffocating, no air, _where's_ _the_ _air_ —

"You _are_ breathing— okay, you asked why the Earth is shaking, remember? The Earth isn't shaking, you are. You're having an— well I think it's a panic attack, not an anxiety attack but we don't have to debate terminology—"

Voice is rambling.

"Sorry, sorry. I ramble when I'm nervous— stop saying you're going to die, you're not going to die. It just feels like it."

Very helpful, voice.

"How are you this insufferable during a panic attack?"

Yuri?

"Yes, yes— that's me! I'm Yuri!"

I'm not stupid. Just confused.

"I know you're not stupid."

Can you read my mind?

"No, you're— Victor, you're talking out loud…." That pulled Victor from wherever in his mind he had retreated to. Victor stared up at Yuri's bright brown eyes.

"Oh, God!" He choked out, voice twisting and raspy. Relief filled him instantly. Yuri was next to him, holding him tightly. The air was freezing and refreshing. Oxygen was the most beautiful thing in the world. Next to Yuri. Right now, Yuri was…. Everything. His anchor in a tossing ocean, his light in the darkness, his spot of joy and hope in the middle of a panic attack—

Victor grimaced at his own sappy thoughts. Woah there, tiger, don't get ahead of yourself before you know what Yuri wants. And at that moment Victor realized a second agenda for meeting with and talking to Yuri. And, holy second agenda. Victor felt his chest constricting again, just thinking about it.

"Are you with me?" Yuri asked hesitantly, stroking a hand soothingly through Victor's tousled hair. His eyes were open wide, looking a little too wet and shiny. He made Yuri cry. Victor felt his own eyes well up as something tightened in his chest. He can't make Yuri cry, he has a second agenda!

"Oh God! That was awful!" Victor practically sobbed when he was suddenly slapped in the face with the emotions and the panic and the _dear God I'm dying_ from the panic attack as he buried his face in Yuri's shoulder, never wanting to see the light of day again. How embarrassing. He had a panic attack about just the idea of talking to his friend about his parent's divorce. He hated that word. Divorce. It felt like that was all anyone was saying anymore. _Divorce_ this, _divorce_ that. He was going to burn that word out of the dictionary.

"So…. Sorry I was useless while you were having your…. er, episode. I should know what to do— I mean, I've had a panic attack before. You'd think I would know what to do. But being on the inside and being on the outside are two completely different things." Yuri blushed at his own wording. "Ah, I— I mean, having an attack and witnessing someone else have one… it's very different. I think it's worse to see someone have one, than it is to have one…. Anyways are you okay?" Yuri finally stopped talking and took a breath.

"I… I had a panic attack on your porch. I'm not okay." He answered gruffly, tightening his grasp around Yuri's waist. This was not how he was planning today to go. He was planning to walk in there, calm Yuri down and help him realize that a divorce is not the end of the world, and then sweep him of his feet. And instead, he had a panic attack on his porch.

Victor was irritated with himself. He was scared and had no idea why, and all he wanted to do was hug Yuri to death. He was irritated that he was so childish and clingy, and he was embarrassed out of his mind for having a _panic attack_ on his _friend's porch_.

"Victor?" Yuri asked tentatively. Victor snapped his attention back to Yuri. He felt shivers race through his body from the chill of the air, and his limbs jittered with left over energy and stress. He was so tired and drained. But also, so not tired and drained at all. He needed to lie down. And he needed to keep hugging Yuri. And he needed Makkachin. Oh no, Yuri probably thought Victor was really needy. And annoying. And a burden.

"It's okay, it's okay. I've got you." Yuri said in a soft voice, sounding like a lullaby, rubbing a hand up and down Victor's trembling back. "You're scared and anxious— that's okay. You'll probably feel that way for a while, you don't have to be embarrassed, or mad at yourself." Yuri chewed his lip self-consciously and averted his gaze from Victor.

"When I had my panic attack— I hate saying that, "my panic attack," it feels so… whiny." Yuri shook his head and hurried to move on. "Anyways, you helped me out with mine. You didn't think badly of me after it, did you?" Victor could tell that Yuri was trying to make him feel better, but the slight pitch in the octave of his friend's voice made Victor wonder if it was an honest, real question.

"No." Victor said firmly, tugging Yuri's chin so he was looking at Victor. "No." Yuri grinned at this, sending warm sparks up and down Victor's chest. This is a heart attack. Definitely. It's much nicer than a panic attack, he had to admit.

"I don't think badly of you either. Just like how you didn't think less of me then, I don't think any less of you. Okay?" Victor nodded carefully, thinking Yuri was much too good for him.

"Good, now let's get inside." Yuri heaved Victor up off the ground, letting the taller man lean his wait against his side as they stumbled into the building. Warm air was like scorching fire on Victor's partially frozen features: heaven, but also pain.

"So, Mari texted you, right?" Yuri asked, pulling Victor into the kitchen. He began rummaging around, pulling out mugs, heating up water, and hunting down tea leaves. The cheerful, soothing sounds of a domestic chore made the atmosphere feel a bit familiar, but Victor still felt out of place.

"Um… yes, she did…." Victor mumbled, awkwardly standing in the middle of the kitchen as Yuri compared the benefits and soothing qualities of each kind of tea. Victor felt uneasy. He had never expected to be welcomed back into the Katsuki home.

Since Yuri's parents made it clear that they didn't want Victor hanging around, Victor decided to not ever go back to the hot springs again. In order to make it easier to stay away and to abide by Yuri's parents' request, Victor planned on keeping at least a 1-mile radius between himself and the hot springs. And now he was standing in the middle of the Katsuki's kitchen. Whoops.

"She texted you to come snap me out of my little "woe is me, my parents hate each other" thing, right?"

"Er, she didn't quite word it that way, but yes." Victor felt himself slipping back into that "polite and formal" tone reserved for strangers or people he didn't like. That hurt. At least a part of Victor considered Yuri a stranger. If Yuri noticed, he didn't let on.

"Well, consider me snapped." Yuri grinned, turning to Victor with a sparkle in his previously concerned and tearful eyes. He handed Victor a tea cup and hopped up on the counter. Victor slunk over reluctantly and leaned back against the counter, shoulder pressed against Yuri's leg.

"Glad I could help." Victor grinned, jokingly raising his cup in a mock toast. Yuri giggled, swinging his legs as he sipped his tea. A warm, triumphant feeling swelled in Victor's chest. He made Yuri laugh. Victor missed this. Trying to make Yuri laugh, Yuri making Victor tea and the both of them just being together and close.

"I hear laughter!" sang a familiar voice. Mari popped out of the hallway into the kitchen. "Oh, you made me tea, how lovely!" she crowed stealing Yuri's tea as she jumped up onto the counter, sitting cross legged. She took a sip and scrunched her face, handing it back to Yuri.

"You take your tea far too sweet. How much milk and sugar did you add, anyways?"

"Six tablespoons of each." Victor answered for Yuri.

"Not six! Maybe, four…." Yuri defended himself. Mari snorted as Yuri pouted at her.

"Because four tablespoons and six are that different." Mari rolled her eyes.

"They are!" Yuri protested, elbowing his sister in the side. She squawked and began poking him ruthlessly in the side. "Stop it— Mari, stop!" Yuri complained between gasps of laughter. Victor couldn't help but grin. He missed this too.

* * *

Eventually, much to her disappointment, Mari had to leave for work, having found a nice little coffee shop close to the house that was looking for cashiers.

"It's not the most glamorous job, but it'll pay the bills. Since Mom and Dad got divorced, working here has been…. difficult, so I got myself a little apartment and a new job. I still come around, obviously, but it's nice to not live with your parents, you know? Plus, I get free coffee, so it's a win-win." She shrugged.

"Wait, both of your parents are still here? Like, living here?" Victor asked, sounding surprised. Yuri nodded.

"They…. Yeah. I don't know why, I guess neither of them want to give the place to the other…" Yuri trailed off. He honestly had no idea why his parents were staying at the hot springs together.

"You guys can contemplate _that_ great mystery while I go make 780 yen an hour. See you losers later!" Mari saluted as she backed out the door, purse and coat appearing out of nowhere. The door slammed behind her, welcoming a gust of chilly air and snowflakes. Victor laughed softly, sipping his tea.

"What's so funny?" Yuri asked curiously, watching through the window as his sister slipped on a patch of ice near the stairs. He winced to himself, sighing in relief when she caught herself on the hand rail. She turned, and stared down at the ground, looking as if she was talking to the ice— mostly likely scolding it for making her almost fall.

"I just…" Victor shrugged burying his face back in his tea cup. Yuri frowned, pulling his coach's teacup away from his face.

"Tell me." Yuri demanded softly.

"I missed this." He blurted out, ducking his head as if he was too shy to meet Yuri's eyes. Yuri quirked an eyebrow. "I mean, you and Mari. It's like… I don't have any siblings," Victor announced suddenly. Yuri blinked. "My mother hates me, I haven't seen my father in…. well, he died, so I guess that's not his fault." Victor laughed awkwardly.

"You guys and Yurio are all I have." Victor stated plainly. "I don't have a lot of people, you know? It's like…. you have to be careful of who you let in. You can't always tell how many people want to be with you for you, or how many want to be with you because…." Victor couldn't seem to bring himself to say it.

"Because or your fame, or your talent, or—"

"Or _money_." Victor hissed the word like it was a slur or a curse. Yuri jumped at the sudden change in tone.

"My mother married my father for his money, and couldn't be bothered to show up to the funeral. Yurio came with me to the funeral. She never came to my competitions, she never supported me, she never helped me— you did that. And Mari, well you and she are a packaged deal. And I like her a lot too, now that I'm getting to know her, so I'm glad to have her in my, um, family… you could say." The more Victor talked, the more his restless hands fidgeted.

"I understand." Yuri said honestly. "I consider you and Yurio to be my family, too. And I'm willing to bet Mari feels the same way." Victor's smile could light up all of Japan.

"It's funny how family works," Victor remarked, suddenly. "Technically, family is labeled as whoever you share blood with. But so many people consider their family to be more, or less than that. For a while, my family was less than that. It was just me in my family. And then my family expanded when I met Yurio, and then again when I met you and your family." Yuri felt his heart warm at this. He felt giddy, for some reason, like a child in a candy store. Then something Victor said hit him. His mother married money.

"I have no idea why my parents married." Yuri muttered. "Did they even love each other at the start? Was this an arranged sort of thing? Was it for money or something like for your mother?" Victor remained silent for a moment.

"Yuri, I know this all is awful, but… You know, you can't let this ruin you. You can't let it rule you, or hang over you." Silence fell. Only the sounds of a few guests upstairs moving around, talking and laughing was heard.

"You know, I used to know who I was going to marry." Yuri said abruptly. "This girl named…. I can't even remember, it was something that started with Cha, I think. I honestly have no idea." Yuri laughed. "It's funny how, at that time, she was the most important thing in my life and now I can't even remember her name." He added, almost bitterly.

"Yuri…" Victor said softly, scooting closer. Yuri waved his concern away with a flick of his hand and rested his elbow on Victor's shoulder. Victor lay his head against Yuri's arm, shifting his weight as he stood while Yuri kicked his restless legs.

"It was just an elementary school crush. I had seen my parents kiss and hug and hold hands— I wanted that… that sense of belonging, I guess. I was a little chubby thing when I was younger. I didn't have many friends, so belonging was… important to me." Yuri smiled wistfully.

"Anyways, my parents' relationship was perfect and I wanted to be that way with Cha. I always thought "well, if they can have that relationship, so can I" because they're like me. They never had a lot of friends, they were teased a lot, and they still found someone who would love them… so maybe I could too. And now…" Yuri's voice caught. He coughed sharply to clear his throat and sniffled pitifully. "And now I don't know."

Yuri stared glumly out the window, unable to see his sister anymore. She must be on her way to a brightly lit, bustling coffeehouse full of happy, busy people living happy, busy lives with their friends and family at their side and a coffee in hand. Yuri envied them. His house was out of coffee.

Somehow, thinking of happy people and cheery coffeehouses made Yuri feel heartachingly alone. As if in an attempt to wipe away the loneliness, the daunting fear of being forever alone or his own ever-continuing existential crisis, Yuri scrubbed at his eyes with his hands. He shuddered and sniffled, like a child, but couldn't bring himself to care.

"Yuri, you aren't your parents." Victor said, voice still gentle. Yuri barked out a laugh at the cliché sentiment.

"Yes I am." He retorted, tapping the side of his empty cup. It made an empty, hollow ringing sound. "I'm everything like them." Yuri added.

"I'm ditzy and overweight. I was bullied as a kid and never had many friends. I'm clumsy, not really good at anything. I'm in my twenties and have still not dated anyone. I'm average, at best. Uninteresting at most times. I have an obsession with befriending people worth ten thousand of me and I always drag them down with me..." Yuri felt white hot fury rising in him, but he welcomed it. Anything rather than the aching feeling that was shredding his heart.

He knew he was being childish. He knew he was whining and throwing a pity party. He knew he was being dramatic and was generally behaving grossly, but he felt like his life was spiraling out of his control, like the future was a daunting, terrifying thing, like he had no one on his side, like there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, like—

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, it's unattractive and, honestly, it doesn't suit you." a disgusted voice snapped. Yuri glanced up at Victor. Dang. That was… unexpected.

"Um…"

"I came to _help_ you. I want you to get better, Mari wants you to get better— but you never will—" Yuri turned his face away, clenching his jaw. He didn't want to hear this, didn't need to hear this.

"— unless _you_ want to get better." Victor set his cup on the counter and moved to stand in front of Yuri. His big hands pulled Yuri's head up from where it drooped and forced Yuri to look at him eye-to-eye. "You can beat this. But until you start believing it, you won't go anywhere, and you'll continue to be stuck. You'll continue to be stuck in this whirlpool of pain and anger and misery that's sucking you down— Yuri, you're circling the drain!" Victor's voice was almost yelling. It was powerful and demanded Yuri's attention. Geez, and Mari thought _Yuri_ was a drama queen!

"If you don't snap out of this…" Victor lowered his head, forehead resting on Yuri's shoulder. "You look like you're getting better. But I know you're not. And… and I'm scared of what might happen if you keep looking like you're getting better instead of actually getting better. You'll be getting worse on the inside, and no one will see. And then, who knows what might…" Victor's voice broke off, his breathing a bit ragged.

Yuri felt like an arse. Like the biggest, dumbest, selfish-ist arse in the world. He stared down at Victor. At someone who had been strong and brave and confidant. Someone who had his life together, who knew what he wanted and who was successful in everything he did. And now, Yuri was looking at a broken, hurt man who moved away from his home and into a random apartment, who felt cut off from his family that wasn't his blood family but was still family… Yuri did this. Yuri broke this man.

"And I know…. I _know_ you think there's no way that someone could love you." Victor whispered, voice thick like he was talking with caramel lodged in his throat. "I know how…. I know what that's like. And I just want you to know that…" Victor sighed heavily, pulling back to he could stare Yuri in the eye. Yuri could see the shining tears starting to build in his coach's eyes. He could see worry lines lightly creasing around Victor's eyes and across his forehead. Yuri could see everything.

And that only meant that Victor could see everything too. See Yuri's tiny freckles and how his nose is kind of crooked if you look at it at the wrong angle and how his eyes are slightly one above the other.

Was it hot in the kitchen for some reason? Must be the stove, from the water heated to make the tea. It was _really_ hot. Also, it felt oddly intimate, standing this close (well, sitting, in Yuri's case. He was still seated on top of the counter). It was like Victor was staring into his soul, seeing him in a way no one else ever did, actually _seeing_ him.

"I want you to know that it's easy to love you."

Yuri choked, coughing harshly into the crook of his elbow. His eyes watered and his face burned as his body yelled at him to breath like a normal person. Did you Victor just say what Yuri thought he did? Did Victor just _imply_ what Yuri thought he did? Wow, it's really hot now. Also, breathing is difficult. What is oxygen?

"Yuri?"

"Hu— wha?" Yuri asked articulately.

"Are you okay?" Yuri leaned back against the wall mounted cupboards, feigning a casual position.

"Ah, yeah— yep, I'm jus— it's all— peachy keen!" Yuri said a bit too brightly. His smile melted off into a pondering expression. "Did you… What did you mean by… _that_?"

"Yuri, I bought us rings, I would've thought you'd catch on by now." Victor muttered, clearly trying to seem relaxed and amused when he was obviously just as flustered as Yuri. Yuri suddenly felt really giddy, his heart was bursting from his chest— dancing around in its little bone cage.

"So, you… are we… I mean, only if… Only if you want to… of course..." Yuri said coherently. Victor's face blossomed into a glowing pink.

"Yes. And I assume you do, too?" Victor was clearly entertained by how flustered and bewildered Yuri was.

" _Wanttoyesverymuch_!" Yuri blurted out, hands clapping against his mouth immediately. "Sorry!" he squeaked out, wondering how in the world he went from "helping Victor in panic attack on snowy porch" to "Mari is moving out" to "get over yourself Yuri" to "Victor loves Yuri and Yuri loves Victor." Wow. The "L" word is…. Wow. Victor laughed and leaned closer, standing between Yuri's legs.

"I wanted to ask…."

"There's more?" Yuri asked, wondering just what else could happen today and whether or not his heart could take it.

"Yeah, um… we were talking about family, remember?" Yuri blinked at the sudden topic change, but nodded anyways. Dear God if he starts talking about babies I'm moving to America.

"Well, I thought, it must be hard to live with your divorced parents…"

"Yeah, they fight a lot. And it's awkward sometimes because they keep trying to drag me and Mari into their fights and stuff. Like, making us pick between them and whatnot…" Yuri trailed off awkwardly, distracting himself by fiddling with the neckline of Victor's soft sweater. Victor pulled Yuri's hands into his own and delivered butterfly kisses across both hands.

"Then come live with me." He said evenly, between kisses. Yuri felt so overwhelmed. HIs heart stopped. And his brain stopped. The world stopped— everything stopped.

"But we _just_ started… dating…" Yuri whispered the last word like it was a secret.

"We are dating. You are unhappy, emotionally unsafe and otherwise unwell in your current living environment. I, providing and caring adult, have a safe and welcoming place you can live in. You, consenting and in-need adult, have every right to come live with me."

"Even though we've been dating for all of three minutes?" Yuri asked suspiciously.

"Even though we've been dating for all of three minutes." Victor agreed. Yuri gnawed on his lip, mind going miles a minute. He caught Victor's eyes and stared into them. This is what he wanted to see every day. This is what he wanted to wake up to. That colour. This person. That smile. _This_.

"Okay." Yuri whispered, elation and apprehension welling up. He wanted to jump and shout and sing and dance and climb to the highest mountain—

"Katsuki Yuri, you have made me the happiest man alive." Victor whispered, eyes glittering. Jesus Christ, why was he crying?!

"Are you— you're crying!"

"Shut up— am not!" Victor exclaimed, all previous confidence and collectedness vanishing. Victor swiped a sweater-sleeved arm across his eyes.

"Stop that, you'll irritated your eyes. Aren't you allergic to wool?" Yuri chastised, pulling Victor's arms away from his face. With gentle fingers, he rubbed across Victor's eyelids, soothing the irritated skin. Victor sighed, leaning in to his boyfriend's touch.

"There. All better," Yuri grinned sweetly. Victor caught Yuri's hands again and placed them on his own shoulders, his own arms going to wrap around Yuri's waist.

"Um… w-what…. What are you doing?" Yuri asked, squeezing the fabric of Victor's shirt, his heart slamming in his chest and his breathing becoming short.

"Breath, Love, just breath. It's okay. Nothing you don't want to happen is going to happen. I've got you." Victor promised. Yuri almost swooned at the mentioned pet name and felt himself instantly relax and melt to fit against Victor's chest.

Holy God, their foreheads were touching— omigodomigodomigod—

Holy God, their noses were touching— Victor has a really nice nose. Yuri squinted at the thoughts his word factory was creating. What the heck, word factory?

And suddenly they were kissing.

Now, Yuri had never kissed anybody but, sitting on the counter of his mother's kitchen with his hands running through his boyfriend's hair while strong arms held him in place around his waist was a pretty dang good way to get kissed, he figured.

And it felt so _right_. They fit together, like all this time they were meant to be together, they were made for each other. It was a bit awkward with the nose situation at first, but Victor corrected this by reaching up and tilting Yuri's head to the side by grasping his chin.

And son of a sunshine was it good.

Victor was an expert kisser. He was gentle and coaxing, but passionate and wild. He tasted like peppermint, from their tea and… chocolate? It was an astounding mix. Yuri thought he was going to die before they stopped kissing because, one: he couldn't breathe, and two: he was feeling all these _feelings_ — there was so much to feel!

Victor finally pulled away, a grin spreading across his kiss-swollen lips. His eyes glittered with emotion and he seemed breathless as well. Yuri slumped against him, his energy somehow zapped.

"You killed me." Yuri groaned.

"Did I really?" Victor grinned, petting Yuri's silky hair and marveling at its softness.

"Yeah. But feel free to do it again." Victor laughed, catching Yuri's lips again. And again. And again.

 **AN:**

 **I know it's kind of a sudden end, please don't hate me. Also what is editing**

 **It has been an adventure, my lovely readers. I've been wanting to write a fanfic for a long time, but was either too lazy or nervous to post one. I was worried about mean commenters, people generally just not liking my stuff— but you guys showed me that I have to just put myself out there. You were all supportive and kind, even though I know this story isn't the _best_ thing in the world… I love you all a bunch, thanks for all your support but, I have to be honest, it's a relief to be done with this story! I really enjoyed making it, but there's something relieving about finishing something you're proud of.**

 **Always feel free to hit me up if there's some more Yuri! On Ice ideas that you have rooting around and, for some reason, you want me specifically to write it!**

 **Everybody hang in there for season 2!**

 **And now, the curtain closes!**

 **Love always,**

 **Eb**


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